Yuleride
by Ms-Figg
Summary: A little HGSS PWP for the Christmas season. AUAR, Dom, HC, Language, MF, Oral, PWP, Spank, WIP Warning: Explicit Content.
1. Gift Exchange

**WARNING: This fic contains adult situations, language and most likely graphic sexual encounters. Hm. It's starting to feel a lot like Christmas. lol.

* * *

****Chapter 1 Gift Exchange**

Professor Severus Snape exited the shower and dried his thin, sallow and scarred frame thoroughly, drawing the Slytherin green towel over his body until every inch of him was dry. The dungeons were damp enough as it was and he didn't want to invite illness. The wizard looked in the mirror, lifting his head and examining his large nostrils to see if his nose hairs needed trimming. No, they were fine. He studied his facial features with grim regard. His skin was so pale that the thin blue veins of his temple could be seen beneath it as if covered with single fine layer of tissue paper.

His nose was large, beak-like and hooked. This nose combined with his perpetually narrowed eyes, sharp brows and prominent cheekbones gave him the look of a hunter, or a black-haired bird of prey. His mouth was cruel and rather petulant at rest, his lips thin and nearly always held in a line equally as thin above his sharp chin.

His hair fell in two greasy black curtains, the oily strands parted in the middle and framing his pallid face. He wore it long purposely to cover the scars on his throat left by Voldemort's serpent Nagini who had bitten him five years ago, the Dark Lord betraying him in the end. His paranoia saved him. He never went anywhere without a specialized Bezoar that had healing and blood replenishing properties as well as the ability to thwart poisons. It was his own creation and had come in handy, the wizard slipping it into his mouth the moment the serpent's magical cage closed over him. However, Nagini's venom was powerful and he was rendered unconscious for a short time as the Bezoar did its work.

Harry Potter had been present. After receiving Snape's memories and the truth of his Destiny, the boy and his friends had departed, leaving him in the Shrieking Shack for dead. Yet, they returned to find him, pallid, weak but alive and attended him, Harry in tears, crying and exclaiming he was a hero.

Even now bile rose in Snape's throat at the memory of the disgusting scene, Harry kneeling next to him, tears streaming from his green eyes and falling on the wizard's robes. If he had been strong enough, he would have blasted the idiot away from him.

Then he had been cleared of all charges against him and restored to Hogwarts. He had been offered the Headmaster position but declined. Instead, he requested to be returned to his former position . . . not as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but his first love, Potions. Now that Voldemort was dead, he had no need to teach the students. He had only wanted the position for their protection, since he knew what they would be facing if they had to meet the despot's forces. Being a Death Eater in the Dark Lord's ranks had its advantages.

Horace Slughorn gladly switched positions with him, the bald, pudgy wizard happily taking over the DADA class. When Minerva made the offer, he pulled on his silver walrus-like mustache with delight and accepted immediately. Slughorn felt the position to be far more notable than that of a potions teacher, and as a wizard that coveted the admiration of others, he leapt at the chance to get out of the dungeons.

Snape pulled his lips back, exposing his uneven, yellowish teeth for a moment, then picked up his toothbrush and tooth powder and set about brushing them. He rinsed his mouth by cupping his hand under the spigot and slurping up a few palmfuls of water, then swirled it around his mouth, spitting it out into the loo. Then he exited the bathroom and walked into his sparsely furnished bedroom, looking up at the clock on the wall. It was eight-thirty. He had half an hour before he was forced to make an appearance in the Staff Room to exchange gifts. Gods, he hated this time of year and the mandatory participation in the idiotic Gift Exchange Night Minerva had set up for the staff in order to "promote friendship and a sense of camaraderie between employees."

Snape let out a derogatory snort as he walked over to his dresser, opened the drawer, took out a pair of well-worn cotton underwear and slipped them on, adjusting himself so his thick cock didn't slip out. It was the only part of him other than his nose that was not the least bit sparse, the pale appendage measuring in at a whopping eleven inches long when fully erect. His lean frame made it look even more daunting.

Nature may not have been kind concerning the dour wizard's looks, but she more than made up for it with the fruit hanging from his bough.

He took a pair of black socks out of another drawer, then walked to his wardrobe, opened it and removed a set of austere black dress robes. He laid the robes on his bed, then sat down and pulled on his socks. He then reached under the bed, pulled out his black boots and slipped his feet into them. Finally, he put on his robes, took his wand off the dresser and placed it in his pocket.

Snape scowled as he thought about the Gift Exchange. There would be food, drink, music and dancing. He hoped Minerva choked on her Figgy Pudding.

The Potions master walked into his study and looked at the pile of presents on his desk. They were all wrapped in black wrapping paper and bound tightly with black ribbons that formed huge bows which hid an amazing number of knots underneath. They would be a pain in the arse to open. How the dark wizard felt about the "Gift Exchange" would be clear enough to his fellow staff members as they struggled to open their gifts.

And wait until they saw them.

Pulling out his wand, Snape reduced the presents and stuck them in his pockets. Then he headed out, robes billowing.

The Halls of Hogwarts were empty, the students having left this morning for Christmas vacation. That meant two weeks of peace and bliss as far as Snape was concerned, sans tonight's festivities. Tomorrow, most of the staff would be leaving Hogwarts as well. Snape always stayed at the castle, since going home to Spinner's End would mean he'd have to open the house up again as well as prepare his own meals. At Hogwarts, he could spend his free time doing what he enjoyed. Brewing potions without interference.

* * *

"Just set that down over here, Hermione, next to the veggie tray," Headmistress Minerva McGonagall directed Hogwarts' Charms Professor as she carried a huge bowl of punch into the Staff Room. Hermione set it down on the long red and green covered table. 

Hermione had just started her tenure at Hogwarts as Professor Flitwick's replacement at the beginning of the new term. The Charms Master had finally retired and Minerva wasted no time offering Hermione the position. The witch was a natural although the students felt she was one of the hardest teachers at Hogwarts because of how demanding she was. Her teaching methods were much different than Professor Flitwick's and Hermione spent at least fifteen minutes of each class making sure each student could pronounce the spells properly.

"It's 'Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa!' Make the 'gar' nice and long," she'd instruct from the front of the class, waving her wand like a conductor as the students repeated the spell over and over.

Hermione was approaching twenty-four years of age now, and wore a nice set of dark blue dress robes, a tiny gold reindeer pinned to her breast in celebration of the season She still had bushy brown hair but there was more curl to it and she managed to keep it almost tamed. Her voice still had a bit of a bossy timbre to it, at least when she was talking to her students . . . or Ron . . . or Harry, and she retained her love of learning to the point of distraction. Her face had filled out somewhat, as had her body. Standing five foot four in her stocking feet, Hermione had always been rather slender while in school. But now she had rather ample curves, although she preferred to dress conservatively, believing that dressing to accentuate the body would detract from the allure of the mind.

Hermione truly believed intelligence was sexy, which made the fact that she continued to date Ron somewhat of a mystery. A mental giant he wasn't. But Ron was familiar and comfortable and "safe." There were no surprises with Ron. They'd known each other since they were children. It was assumed they'd marry some day.

As far as Molly Weasley was concerned, that day couldn't come soon enough. She wanted grandchildren yesterday and currently most of her boys were playing the field and Fleur wasn't ready to lose her "girlish" figure breeding Weasleys.

"Oh Molly, there ees time for baybees! I am steel young. There ees no rush," the pretty witch would say to Molly anytime she asked about grandchildren.

George was a male slut . . . albeit a careful one. There would be no redheaded babies springing from his loins anytime soon, though his numerous trysts led to the creation of the "skinless condom" patented and marketed by "Weasley's Wonders" an offshoot company of "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." All a wizard had to do was open a little packet of magic near his erection and walahh! Raw, unbridled, protected sex to his heart's content without the sensation of wearing a raincoat. George was a genius and a rich one.

Charlie and Percy were also confirmed bachelors, so Molly's hope was firmly set on Ron. Actually, she hoped that there would be a little "accident" that would pop out of Hermione's oven squalling and kicking nine months later. But Hermione was quite careful. Besides, she and Ron didn't have sex that often anyway. Hermione found it pleasant but not something she wanted to do more than two or three times a month.

Ron figured once he married Hermione, she'd have to do her wifely duties in a more generous and enthusiastic manner, so he didn't complain too much. He'd have his day.

Hermione was quite happy with her job at Hogwarts. She had been leaning toward working at the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for a time, but the idea of returning to her beloved Hogwarts was just too alluring. Ron worked with George at the Joke Shop, but Harry was trying to lure him to the Ministry as well.

One of the nicer aspects of working at Hogwarts, in Hermione's opinion, was that it gave her a bit of space from Ron. She had been working for a commercial Charms company for three years, and saw Ron almost every day. Hermione liked time to herself to read and the like, but when Ron was around he wanted her attention, and for her to cook for him. She did, but drew the line at him moving in with her, however. Then he'd be like a husband without the responsibility of one. Hermione wasn't ready for a husband.

Ron wouldn't be attending the festivities tonight because it was for staff only.

"Anything else I can do, Headmistress?" Hermione asked Minerva, who smiled and shook her head.

"No, the festivities are about to start. Almost all the staff is here," she said, looking around the highly decorated room with a smile.

The chairs had been pulled back to create a large open area for dancing. A green, red and gold covered table held numerous tagged presents of all sizes. Christmas songs played softly in the background. Neville Longbottom, the current Herbology Professor was busily hanging up small clusters of Mistletoe in strategic places and Sybil Trelawney already had a cup of eggnog in her heavily ringed hand. She was wearing trailing scarves in Christmasy colors and slowly guzzling her way into "Soothsayer" mode.

The Staff Room had been magically enlarged for the occasion. Present for the occasion were Professor Binns, who drifted in a far corner, his ghostly nose in a history book, Argus Filch, whose rheumy eyes shifted about from staff member to staff member suspiciously before he hobbled over to the table and fed Mrs. Norris, who was tucked in his arm, a bit of tuna fish.

Firenze, Hogwarts' only centaur teacher stood speaking in quiet tones to Professor Vector, who wore a festive Father Christmas cap on her head. Madam Hooch was standing near the punch bowl. She looked about, then slipped her hand into her robes sleeve and extracted a flask of Ogden's Firewhiskey, her yellow eyes narrowed. Hagrid, Poppy and Professor Sinistra were chatting politely, the half-giant towering over the witches, a huge mug of ale in one huge hand. Librarian Irma Pince also chatted animated at Professor Slughorn, who yawned behind his hand and looked at her with a rather dull expression as if he'd rather be anyplace else.

Helen McCaine sat quietly in a chair, sipping an eggnog. She was the Transfiguration teacher and had been at Hogwarts for the past four years. She was a rather mousy-looking witch, skinny with grayish hair and bifocals. But it wasn't surprising that she was mousy. Her animagus form was a mouse after all. Yet, she was a wonderful teacher. A brightly colored Christmas corsage was pinned to her gray robes.

Only one person was missing. Professor Severus Snape.

Hermione noticed his absence immediately. She imagined his presence would be akin to the Grim Reaper sitting in on the festivities, sans sickle and hood. No doubt his stiff bearing would be similar, the wizard emitting as much warmth as a glacier. Still, he was a Hogwarts staff member and it was mandatory for him to participate or there'd be hell to pay. Minerva didn't like to be disobeyed. Snape might end up with Hogsmeade detail for the rest of the term if he didn't show.

Suddenly the door swung open and the Potions master strode in like an icy wind, his face scornful, his dark eyes shifting from side to side, quickly taking everything in. Without hesitation he strode up to the table holding the gifts, reached into his pocket and removed several black objects, setting them down.

"Is that coal?" Madam Hooch whispered to Hagrid as they watched Snape pull out his wand and enlarge the presents.

"No. Seems thar' gifts. Wrapped in black," the half-giant replied.

Severus turned to find Minerva standing right behind him.

"Glad you could make it, Severus," the Headmistress said.

Snape eyed her, then gave a stiff curt bow.

"I wouldn't have missed it, Headmistress," he said in a silken voice that dripped insincerity.

Then he walked across the room far from the other staff members and sat down in a folding chair, crossing his arms and looking completely unapproachable.

The other staff members were used to the Potions master's cold demeanor and simply ignored him, chatting and drinking. Everyone except Hermione and Sybil Trelawney, who was now sipping Firewhiskey, her eyes bug-like behind her large, thick glasses as she stared at the wizard. Snape was aware of her gaze and pointedly ignored her.

Hermione walked over to the table, examining the black packages, looking for the one with her name on it. Ah, there it was, the name "Hermione Granger" written in small, cramped script, the letters tight and close as if the wizard didn't want to waste space.

"I wonder what he got me," Hermione mused to herself.

She had given the Potions master Charmed Chalk she created herself. He could dictate his notes to the class and it would write them word for word on the blackboard so he didn't have to repeat himself. She made sure to provide enough to last until the end of term. Maybe he'd appreciate it.

Hermione made small talk with the rest of the staff, sipping on eggnog and generally having a nice time. But the Potions master didn't once move from his spot, speaking curtly to those who dared address him.

"Happy Christmas," he snarled at Hagrid. "But it would be much happier if you left me to myself, at least as far as I'm concerned."

Sybil Trelawney took a shot at engaging the dark wizard, buoyed by a number of Firewhiskeys. She sauntered over and stood in front of the wizard, who looked up and her, his nose wrinkling distastefully.

"Severus, come stand under the Mistletoe," she said to the wizard, weaving unsteadily before him.

The Potions master glared at her with disdain.

"Not in this lifetime, Sybil. Now go away before I hex a stake of Holly through your heart," he growled, pretending to reach into his robes pocket.

"You have no Christmas Spirit," she hissed, highly affronted. She stalked away.

Snape refolded his arms and watched as staff members danced with each other, Minerva and Horace tripping the lights ad nauseum. Would this debacle never end? He couldn't leave until they opened the presents. That would happen at midnight. It was early for Christmas, but since most of the staff would be leaving tomorrow, she thought it suitable.

Hermione, who was standing by the libations table, looked at the Potions master with a bit of trepidation. She found it sad that he purposely drove people away. True, it was his way, but still she found it sad. And that was what drove her to do what she did.

She walked over to the libations table and poured three fingers of Firewhiskey into a glass, then walked over to the wizard and offered it to him. Snape eyed the drink, then looked up at the Charms mistress.

"If I wanted a drink, I would have retrieved it myself, Miss Granger," he said sharply.

"That's Hermione. We are both staff members and it's suitable that you address me by my name, Severus," she said, still offering the glass.

The Potions master's face contorted at the familiar use of his given name, but Hermione wasn't out of place. Minerva preferred staff members to speak to each other with a certain familiarity. She believed it promoted camaraderie

"I do not enjoy being addressed so familiarly by you, Heeeermione," he said with a sneer. "And I don't want your drink."

"Fine," Hermione snapped at him, then brought the glass to her lips and drank the Firewhiskey straight down, rasping at the end, her eyes watering.

Snape quirked his lips at her, his eyes narrowed.

"I see you still have the need to 'prove' yourself," he said, with an even uglier sneer.

"And I see you're still an ass," Hermione hissed, spinning on her heel and stalking away.

Snape watched her for a moment before letting his eyes shift back to the staff. Eventually, Hermione joined the dancing, being passed from Hagrid to Slughorn and even dancing with Firenze, who needed plenty of room. Yet his four legs moved in perfect tangent and he waltzed surprisingly well for a centaur.

Finally, it was time to open the presents. Madam Hooch was deluged with broom polishing kits, Neville received plant-related gifts . . . Slughorn received a number of liquors and so forth and so on.

Every staff member had to wrestle with the black gifts Snape had brought, struggling with the many knots and unable to slide the ribbon off without untying them. So, the festivities were a bit extended. And Severus' gifts were less than stellar. He gave Hagrid a huge tube of roll-on deodorant. Extra strength. Slughorn received a bottle of Hair Today that was supposed to cure baldness.

Snape knew it didn't work.

Minerva got a huge tub of Super Strength Wrinkle Cream for Weathered and Leathered Skin . . . and yes, that was actually on the label. Trelawney received a Magic Eight Ball. It was a muggle item that one asked a question and shook, and inside it was a number of answers, "Yes, No, Maybe, Definitely, Ask Again, etc.

"Think of it as a divination aid, Sybil," the Potions master purred at her, his face stoic. "No doubt it will be more on point than you are concerning predictions."

The rest of Snape's gifts were just as horrible, except for Filch's gift. The Potions master had given him a powerful salve he created especially for the caretaker's arthritis. Of all the staff members, Filch was treated with the least regard although he had been a loyal caretaker for years. The salve would help with the pain and keep him mobile enough to continue to hunt down and terrorize students. The Potions master included a note that told Filch to come to him for refills when he ran out. Filch thanked him gratefully.

Snape sat in the chair with a rather pleased expression on his face as he was coldly thanked by one staff member after the other. Finally, it came time for Hermione to open her gift from the snarky Potions master. She looked at the many knotted bow, then pulled out her wand.

"Sectumsempra," she intoned, neatly slashing the bow off the top of the box, the encircling ribbons falling away neatly. She gave the Potions master a smug little smirk as he scowled at her. He had created that spell years ago and Hermione knew it would vex him just a bit for her to use it on his gift.

"Not exactly an act appropriate for the spirit of the season," the Potions master said to her from his seat, his black eyes glittering.

"You should talk," she shot back at him, slowly lifting the lid off the box. She stared down into it, looking puzzled, then took out the item inside. She studied it, then looked over at Snape.

"A magnifying glass?" she said to him.

"Yes. So you'll get a . . . clue," the wizard responded, an unpleasant smirk playing around his mouth as he stood up. It was his turn to open his presents.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione demanded.

Snape looked down his long nose at her, his mouth tight for a moment.

"Ask me later," he replied, dismissing the witch as he walked up to the table and gathered all his presents in a pile. He pulled out his wand and reduced them, then put them in his pocket.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Minerva demanded. "You're supposed to open your presents now."

Snape turned to face her.

"Surely you aren't going to deny me the pleasure of placing them under my . . . tree, Minerva? It will be more . . . festive that way. Then I can prance into my study on Christmas morning, rip open my treasures like some over-excited first year and gloat over my ill-gotten gifts," the wizard said to her sarcastically.

Minerva sighed. Severus had absolutely no Christmas spirit. More than likely he was going to throw every gift into the fire in his floo when he returned to the dungeons. He was just so damn hard to reach.

"Do as you like, Severus," she said to the wizard, a bit of sadness in her voice.

"Thank you. And what I'd like . . . is to go now that this little party is over. Happy Christmas," the dark wizard replied without enthusiasm, then strode out of the Staff Room without so much as a glance back.

Hermione looked down at her magnifying glass, then at the door before following the wizard out of the room. She wanted to know what he meant by "Get a Clue."

"Severus!" Hermione called as she hurried after him. He had made it as far as the Main Hall. It was rather cold, as castles were wont to be.

Snape stopped stiffly. It was easy to see from his body language he was irritated that Hermione had once again addressed him by his name. He didn't turn around but waited for the witch to catch up then walk around him, the magnifying glass in her hand.

"I want you to explain this gift to me," she said to him.

"Why don't you use your much acclaimed powers of deduction and logic to figure it out, Hermione?" he asked her, making her name sound like an insult.

"You told me to ask you later, so I'm asking you," she replied, frowning up at the wizard.

Snape stared at her, letting his eyes move over her slowly, his expression unreadable.

"Fine. If you would uncover the mysterious meaning of your gift, then you must come to my rooms. I refuse to stand here in the cold, drafty entrance hall and discuss it," the dark wizard said, walking toward the dungeons, his robes billowing.

Hermione stood there. His rooms?

"Are you coming . . . Hermione?" the wizard called, drawing out her name, his voice echoing slightly. He had turned down the dungeon corridor and Hermione could hear the mocking sneer beneath his words from where she was standing. He didn't think she'd follow him into the serpent's den.

Well, he was wrong. Resolutely, she followed him.

* * *

A/N: Well, now you know why I've been so quiet. I'm working on a Christmas PWP story. This one isn't going to be a "Merry XXXmas, Professor Snape." :::snicker::: In this story I tried to make Snape as canon as possible in appearance and dress. Of course, the length of his tool will ever remain a mystery … but thanks to a rich imagination (and slight touch of randiness), the wizard is HUNG. Lol. Anyway, thanks for reading. After I finish this, I'm going to start back on Twice Bitten and In an Alternate Universe. 


	2. The Gospel According to Snape

**Chapter 2 The Gospel According to Snape **

Hermione followed the Potions master down the dungeon corridor. It seemed even colder than the Main Hall, possibly because of the dampness of the area. Snape walked before her, not bothering to look back to see if she were on his heels or not.

Presently, Snape stopped in front of his office. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowed as he saw Hermione had indeed followed him, then unwarded the door and let himself in, leaving it open for Charms mistress.

The first thing Hermione saw when she entered his office were the horrible things he had floating in jars sitting on shelves mounted on nearly every wall. Why did he surround himself with such terrible things? Snape wasn't in the office, and Hermione saw an opening in the far wall, the interior black as pitch. Slowly she walked up to it and peered in. She couldn't see a thing.

"Come in!" Snape snapped as he ignited the floo with his wand. "I need to close the wall or the scant heat my study holds will escape."

Hermione hurried through the opening, the wall sliding down behind her. She immediately clasped her arms around herself. Scant heat? It was FREEZING! Snape moved away from the floo and with his wand lit two torches resting in sconces on the wall. Now Hermione could see although the light was rather dim.

His study was as austere as the wizard himself. There were only two rather threadbare armchairs in front of the fire, a small table between them, a sofa, a large writing desk and a small liquor cabinet in the corner. Over the fireplace hung the Slytherin crest, a silver serpent resting against a green field and the walls were covered in books, mostly with black and brown covers. There were no portraits or any other decoration.

Hermione stood in the center of the room uncertainly. Snape looked at her for a moment, then walked over to his desk, took out his miniaturized presents and placed them on top of it. He resized them.

"You don't have a tree," Hermione said suddenly.

Snape looked at her.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped.

"A Christmas tree. You told Minerva you were going to place your presents under your tree," Hermione replied.

Snape's mouth turned down as warmth quickly spread through the room. He must have used some extra charm to distribute the heat.

"Surely you didn't believe I what I told the Headmistress," he said to her. "Of course I don't have a tree. No tree, no ornaments and no stockings hanging over the fireplace waiting to be filled by Father Christmas. I simply didn't want to go through the aggravation of thanking people for gifts I neither want nor need. Everything will be fed to the fire."

Hermione scowled at him.

"But they're gifts that people gave to you, Severus. You shouldn't destroy them," the witch said.

Snape gave the witch an unpleasant smirk that was very close to a sneer as he studied her. When he spoke, his voice was full of quiet venom.

"Gifts? You believe these 'gifts?' I assure you, Hermione, were it not for Minerva's ridiculous 'Gift Exchange' I would not have received a single present from anyone. I haven't in all the time I've been at Hogwarts. These so-called 'gifts' were not given in the true spirit of the season, nor were they accepted for that reason. I took them because I had to take them. It is Christmas under duress. I may have been forced to take them but I don't have to keep them, nor do I intend to."

"I would have given you a gift," Hermione responded, "even if we didn't have the Gift Exchange."

Snape let out a short, ugly little laugh.

"Of course you would have. Forgive me for thinking otherwise. Your generosity towards me over the years has been stellar," he said curtly.

Hermione colored. She had never given Professor Snape a gift in her life. But she worked at Hogwarts now and Hermione would have given each fellow staff member some small gift just because of the season.

"Well, it would have started this year," she said, trying to defend herself. "I just started at Hogwarts as a fellow staff member. I would have given everyone something."

Snape looked at her, then pointed imperiously at the chairs in front of the fire.

"Sit down," he said.

Hermione walked over to the armchairs and gingerly sat down in one. The cushion was lumpy and uncomfortable and she squirmed as Snape walked over to the liquor cabinet and fixed himself a drink without offer the witch anything.

He then joined Hermione in front of the fire, taking the other seat and a sip of his Firewhiskey before placing it on the small table between them and staring into flame.

He didn't say anything as he ran one slender fingertip over his lips, the firelight catching his eyes.

Hermione watched his profile quietly. The fire put his face in relief, the flickering flames sharpening his hawkish features, giving him a rather sinister cast as light and shadow played across his features. He could have been Satan himself, contemplating the world's end as he sat there, silent and brooding. Suddenly, he turned his head and looked at Hermione directly.

"I suggest we do a bit of 'amplification' concerning your gift. Possibly, you will be able to deduce its meaning yourself, although I am sure several years ago you would have understood it immediately," the wizard said, a bit of disdain in his voice.

Hermione frowned at the pale wizard slightly. Was he insinuating she no longer had the ability to figure things out as good as she once did? How dare he?

Snape's mouth quirked at the look of displeasure on the witch's face and once again he drew a thin finger across his lips.

"Now, Hermione, what is the purpose of a magnifying glass?" he asked her.

"It is used for examination. To enlarge objects so they can be seen clearly," she responded.

Snape nodded and looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, you gave it to me for my studies," the witch said.

Snape's face contorted.

"I can't believe you've become so thick. Obviously your continued association with Ron Weasley has significantly dumbed you down. It's no surprise really. Association brings assimilation after all," he said coldly.

Hermione stood up.

"I didn't come here to be insulted by you, Professor," she snapped at him. "Just give me a straight answer . . . or forget it!"

"Sit down!" the wizard suddenly snarled at her, his eyes going a bit wild.

Hermione quickly dropped into the seat, frightened by the sudden violent outburst.

"You were the one who followed me down here seeking answers," the Potions master told her, forcing himself to calm. "You were the one who wanted to be told the mystery. Now you stand here making threats to dismiss what I have to say? You have gall. Now be quiet and listen."

Hermione stared at him, saying nothing as the wizard visibly drew a calming breath.

"You were once the most promising student at Hogwarts," he began. "You were brilliant, inquisitive, a seeker of knowledge. Not only that, but you were . . . brave. You took risks. You met every challenge that came your way. It seemed you were going to become someone of consequence. Now look at you."

The wizard's voice was full of scorn as he said this. Hermione scowled at him.

"What's wrong with me? I'm doing fine. I have a good job, I'm teaching students, sharing my knowledge and skill, accomplishing something," she said, "I'm satisfied with my life."

"Satisfied?" Snape said disparagingly, "You've settled. I gave you that magnifying glass so you would get a clue and examine your life. You're wasting it."

Hermione stared at him, then stood up.

"I don't have to listen to this! Who are you to tell me what's wrong with my life? I'm leaving this instant," she said, walking around the chair and heading for the wall that opened on his office.

Suddenly Snape was out of his chair, one hand locked around the witch's upper arm. Hermione gasped as he drew her back, leaning down until his pale, contorted face was just an inch from her own, his beak of a nose almost touching hers. There was a frightening gleam in his eyes.

"You came to my rooms under your own steam, wanting answers. Now that you are here and have taken up my time, you will listen," he hissed at her. "You will listen to everything I have to say to you. Now, sit down!"

Snape reached into her robes pocket and pulled out her wand, then pushed her toward the chairs. Hermione stumbled forward and spun to look at him.

"I said SIT DOWN!" he roared at her.

Hermione quickly took a seat.

Snape pocketed Hermione's wand, then stood there, trying to recover. He was shaking and his face a bit paler than usual. Hermione had heard how the wizard could lose it, but had never witnessed it for herself until this moment. It was terrifying.

After a moment, the wizard walked around the armchair, picked up his drink and downed it in entirety, Hermione looking up at him with scared eyes. He stared over the glass at her, then slowly put it down on the table.

"Now that you are properly seated, we can continue. I will speak, you . . . will listen," the wizard said quietly.

Hermione said nothing, but her heart was pounding. Yes, she'd listen. She'd do what she had to in order to get out of the wizard's room in one piece. It had been a mistake to come here.

"During Voldemort's reign, you were quite important in thwarting the wizard time and time again. No matter the danger, you faced it, met it and in the end, conquered it. You met challenges, Hermione, you met life full on. Now, look at you. Since the Dark Lord's death you've retreated into a 'safe' little world. You've ceased to challenge yourself, or to grow after you left Hogwarts," he said to the witch.

"What do you mean? Teaching students is challenging," Hermione said in her own defense. "And I still read and study. I learn new things all the time."

"Ah yes. And do nothing with it. There are more than mental challenges in life, Hermione. There are emotional challenges . . . and physical. When was the last time you did something that made your heart race? Something you knew was dangerous and wrong, but would be right to do? When was the last time you felt fear?"

"Fear? When was the last time I felt fear? Tonight. When you went ballistic on me," she replied, scowling at the wizard. She felt braver now that he was being more reasonable.

"Don't be cheeky!" Snape snapped at her. "I am speaking about the kind of exhilarating fear that comes from taking a risk, from daring to do something that might not end well."

"It's been a long time. The Dark Lord is gone and the Death Eaters disbanded. There's nothing to fear now," Hermione replied.

Snape looked at her, then began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, Hermione's eyes following him.

"You live in a world of fear and don't even realize it," he said to her. "Your entire life is a testament to that fear."

"I'm not afraid of anything," Hermione snapped at him.

"You're afraid of EVERYTHING," Snape snapped back at her, drawing close for a moment, his robes fluttering around his thin frame. "And I can prove it to you."

Now Hermione folded her arms and sat back in the chair, one eyebrow arched at the pale wizard standing before her, claiming to know something about her that she did not. He was mad. He knew nothing. Nothing.

"Go ahead then, Severus. Prove it to me," she said.

Snape could hear the challenge in her voice.

"The kind of fear that surrounds you, is a coward's fear, Hermione. You have become a coward. Everything in your life is safe, comfortable. Take for example, your relationship with Ronald Weasley. Your 'childhood sweetheart.' Why are you with him?" Snape asked her pointedly.

Hermione blinked at him.

"I'm with Ron because I care about him," Hermione replied.

"Care about him?" Snape spat as if spitting out poison. "You have nothing in common with him. You are with him because you think you're supposed to be, because you became more than friends after the Dark Lord's demise. You've never once strayed, never once sought out anyone else, and never once tested your emotions. Most young women your age go through several beaus before settling down with one. But not you. Oh no. It 'wouldn't be right' to expand your horizons. You are afraid to do so; afraid to set out on your own and find out if there is someone more suitable."

"I'm not afraid of anything like that," Hermione retorted, although she felt a little twinge inside at the wizard's words. There had been times she wanted to break it off with Ron, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. So many people thought they should be together. Plus, she would lose him as a friend. As long as she was with Ron, she had somebody.

"So, you mean to tell me you want to continue with a man whose only desire is to eventually turn you into a clone of his mother?" Snape said to her silkily, "Ronald Weasley wants a house frau. A houseful of red-headed children and a frayed, harried wife whose main article of clothing is an apron covered in gravy. But he's 'safe' isn't he? Familiar. By staying with Mr. Weasley you don't have to risk being alone. You don't have to take the chance of 'being hurt' by someone else. You've given up part of your life for a man who will never appreciate you for who you are."

"Ron appreciates me," Hermione said softly.

"I bet he won't even allow you to read a book when he's present," Snape said.

Hermione blinked at him, but said nothing.

"And all he talks about is Quidditch or something else that you have no interest in," the Potions master continued. "You can't even have an invigorating conversation with him. More than likely everything you discuss centers around him. But still, you stay. You stay because you don't want to take the risk of emotional upheaval. Do you see this? Can you? That is FEAR, Hermione. Plain and simple. I doubt you even love him."

Hermione shifted in her chair a bit, not meeting the wizard's eyes, which narrowed as he recognized the look of someone who'd been found out.

"And I don't believe he makes your heart race," the wizard added, staring down at the witch. "How could he when you are so familiar with each other? It's almost an incestuous relationship, a brother and sister engaging in intimacy."

"How dare you!" Hermione suddenly yelled at the wizard.

"I dare because I don't want to see a brilliant witch throw her life away because she is too much of a coward to live her life to the fullest. Don't you miss it, witch? The excitement, the challenge? You're not meant to be tied down this way . . . your mind is a treasure that should be spent gathering even more rich knowledge. And it is atrophying. Although you are a good teacher, you were meant for something better than this. But you accept this tame, unexciting life because you've settled. You've pushed your hunger down. You need to realize this," the Professor said.

Suddenly Hermione lashed out at him.

"Why do you even care? You don't care about anyone, Severus. What do you care if I do become a house frau or stay at Hogwarts for the rest of my life?" she cried, clenching her hands into fists.

Snape looked at her.

"I care, Hermione, because I see something in you dying. Physical death would be better in your case. Your bravery, your courage and your fearlessness is slowly being drained from you by a life of mediocrity. I know this simply because I too am suffering from that drainage," the wizard admitted.

Snape sat down in the chair beside Hermione and stared into the flames of the fireplace again, his oily hair framing his face so the only thing she could see in profile was his enormous nose.

"It's been five years since the Dark Lord's death, and for five years I have lived here, teaching. I never realized that my being a spy kept me . . . from sinking into a life of despair. Yes, I cursed both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord for my predicament but the truth was that danger kept me going. The situations, the danger of discovery, the plots and plans. The threat of death. The challenge of surviving day to day. That was my balm, my reason for existence. Now I no longer have that," he said softly. "I miss it."

Hermione stared at the wizard. He missed his life of danger? Yes, it could be possible. He had been a spy for years. He served a purpose, that purpose was protecting Harry and bringing about the Dark Lord's demise. Now it was over and he was just a teacher. That was quite a fall.

Snape suddenly looked at her sharply.

"But I haven't accepted it. I refuse to," he said to her, iron in his voice. "I have a plan. A plan that . . . would involve you. But not this you, Hermione. The you that you once were. The daring Gryffindor that would face any danger. You see, you are different than Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley . . ."

The Potions master's face contorted as he spoke Harry's name and his next words were full of loathing.

"Everyone still speaks about his courage and bravery, when the truth was he never sought out danger. It came to him. He had no choice but to face them, to fight for his life. Death followed him wherever he went. There was no escape, nothing to do other than try to deal with it. He was simply trying to save his own life. Oh, eventually it became a crusade. 'Voldemort is evil and must die.' That was orchestrated by Dumbledore. But you, Hermione, you faced danger because you had courage. You could have been like the majority of Hogwarts' students and let Potter face his challenges himself. But you didn't. You involved yourself and nearly died because of it, knowing it was possible you could die. But you walked into that dragon's den anyway. You weren't a hanger-on like Weasley, or a Judy-Come-Lately like those students who joined Dumbledore's Army and joined not out of any true desire to fight Voldemort but out of frustration with Delores Umbrage's teaching methods. You were there from the first and what you accomplished mattered," the wizard told her.

"Ron wasn't a . . ." Hermione began

"He was. Don't you remember when Potter was a Tri-wizard champion? How jealous Weasley was because he coveted the position himself? I got a good laugh from that for weeks before they patched things up. I imagine you have never been jealous of Harry," Snape said to her, running his finger over his lip once again.

"No. I felt sorry for him really. He had so much to face," she said softly.

"That is because your motives were sincere. You wanted to help him because of that danger, and not for glory. That wasn't the case with Weasley. He wanted to be important. You wanted to help," Snape replied. "And Weasley is still riding the robes of those who are exemplary. He's shagging the most brilliant witch in the Wizarding World. Hermione Granger and offering her nothing in return but the promise of a life full of dull routine, just as this job as Charms mistress. You deserve more than that. Don't accept this 'safe' situation you find yourself in, or it will drain your soul from you as surely as a Dementor's kiss. Examine your life and fix it before it is too late."

Hermione stared at the wizard, feeling as if a huge, heavy stone was inside her belly. He made her feel so . . . so dissatisfied. Now a life that seemed fine seemed almost like a prison. But he didn't really care about her life simply to care. He said he had a plan that involved her. What was it?

"Severus, you said you had a plan, one that could involve me," she said to the dark wizard. "What is it?"

Snape's lips pursed slightly.

"I plan to resign my position as Potions professor at the end of this term. I am leaving Hogwarts," he said as Hermione's eyes widened. "This dull existence has finally taken its toll and I can no longer bear it. I have been receiving residuals for my original potions for years and have amassed quite a large sum of money due to my thriftiness . . . "

Hermione thought the word "miserliness" would be a better description, judging by his quarters.

". . .and I plan to travel the world seeking out fabled potions and elixirs. I need someone with me, someone who can help me locate and study these potions. Someone who is good at defensive magic, and doesn't mind breaking a few rules in the name of knowledge. Someone who won't break and run when the situation becomes dangerous. In short, Hermione, I need you."

Hermione stared at the wizard. He was going to travel the world?

How exciting!

Hermione didn't say anything but Snape could see a glimmer of the old Hermione in her brown eyes. The one who loved challenge and adventure. He stood up and walked over to his desk, pushing the gifts to one side then opening the drawer and taking out a large rolled parchment. He pulled out his wand and lit a torch behind him for more light.

"Come take a look at this, Hermione," he said, unrolling the parchment and spreading it on the desk. He used four gifts to hold down the corners.

Hermione rose, walked over to the desk and stood next to Snape, looking down at the parchment. It was a map of the world, areas of it circled in red ink, and small cramped writing was scrawled next to the circles.

"This is a map of the places I plan to explore and the potions I intend to find," he said, his black eyes resting on the map longingly.

Hermione studied the map. The Himalayas, South America, Egypt, Sumatra, the Easter Islands . . .

Hermione started, then looked at Snape.

"Lemuria? The land of Mu? I always thought that was a fable. And besides, didn't it sink?" she asked him.

"Only parts of it. It exists," the wizard said, staring at the map and running a finger over the circled area. "But it will take magic to access it. It is well protected and . . . "

Here he looked at Hermione with glittering black eyes.

" . . . they don't like strangers."

Hermione swallowed and looked back at the map. There had to be at least two hundred places circled. Enough exploration to last a lifetime. Snape took full advantage of her interest.

"Read the names of the potions that are claimed to be in these areas," the wizard purred at the witch, his voice silken and a bit hypnotic. "Read the properties. Take your time."

Hermione slowly sank down into his swivel chair, completely mesmerized by the map and the small cramped writing scrawled all over it. Snape smirked at her behind her back, then retrieved his glass and walked to the liquor cabinet to fix himself another drink.

The bait was dangling before the witch, and judging by her small exclamations, Hermione found it tantalizing. Snape took a sip of his Firewhiskey and watched her with narrowed, calculating eyes.

Now, if only she'd bite.

* * *

A/N: Ooh. The Bait. Lol. I dipped a bit into another story "A Long Way Back" and revived the "traveling the world" aspect. I also grabbed Lemuria from "The Ring." I imagine Hermione would love to travel the world . . . but . . . she miiiight just need a little "persuading" from the Potions master. Heh heh. Thanks for reading. 


	3. Persuasion Short Chappie

**Chapter 3 Persuasion (Short Chappie)**

Hermione studied the map for almost half an hour. Snape took a seat in the armchair before the fire, thinking his own thoughts as he waited for Hermione to finish her perusal. Finally, the witch walked around the chair he was seated in, her brown eyes resting on the pale wizard. Snape looked up at her, his eyes unreadable.

"What you are planning is wonderful and exciting, Professor. All of those potions are remarkable, if they truly exist," she said to him slowly.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. He was waiting. Waiting to see if she were ready to cast off the manacles of mediocrity and live up to her potential. He did need the witch. He knew of no one else he could trust to go the distance. Of course, he could travel alone but his chances of success would be greater with the Gryffindor witch.

She had to agree.

"I'm flattered you wish to include me in your plans, but . . . but I don't think I can do it. I would have to leave everything behind . . ." she said softly.

Snape's face twisted.

"Everything like what? A wizard not worthy of you? A job that will never bring you the challenge you require?" Snape said, his voice soft despite the look of displeasure on his face.

Slowly the wizard rose and glided toward Hermione, his dark eyes gleaming as he addressed her.

"Think of what I am offering you," he said seductively, "Adventure. Excitement. Challenge. We will enter places that men have not visited in hundreds of years, Hermione. We will travel to distant lands, live among different cultures. There will be plenty of puzzles to solve, obstacles to circumvent. And our discoveries, our discoveries will seal our place in history in a manner far greater than the mention we currently have as part of Voldemort's downfall."

Hermione stood there listening as Snape walked around her, standing close and leaning, slowly pulling back her hair and breathing his words into her ear like a tempter trying to steal a soul.

"Imagine us in the cold, crisp air of the Himalayas trailing Yetis, or in the depths of temple ruins in India, brushing cobwebs from the faces of old gods. Picture us on the shores of now uninhabited islands and cutting paths through verdant jungles. Think, if you will, of us in the chambers of Pharaohs, deciphering the glyphs that will lead us to unseen treasure troves of knowledge. We will see people that have been hidden for generations, we will face dangers that will test the depth of our mettle. There will be no dull moments, no waste of energy. Our lives will be full of purpose, of challenge, enough to last an entire lifetime if you wish, Hermione," he breathed, gently grasping the witch's shoulders.

Hermione listened to his silken voice as if mesmerized, feeling Snape's warm breath on her ear and smelling the scent of Firewhiskey. She didn't shy away from his grip on her shoulders, his long pale fingers splayed and grasping slightly. He began to gently move those fingers, letting his hands slowly slip to her collarbone and plying her with a gentle massage as he continued to croon in her ear.

"What is there here that can offer you such an opportunity, witch? What is there in all of Wizarding England that offers a challenge such as this? No place. Think of it, witch . . . all the knowledge you can acquire, all of the sights you will see and the situations you will experience," he said, drawing out the last word like a slow hiss.

"But Ron . . . my family," the witch said in a hollow voice, her eyes half-closed as Snape's fingers worked magic into her skin.

"You don't need him. He is a stone around your neck, a dead weight bringing you down. He is an obstacle . . . and obstacles should be removed. It is time for you to throw away the familiar and take up the gauntlet of the Unknown. And your family, you can write them. I am sure your parents have a well-rounded life even without your presence. Don't use them as an excuse to deny yourself the greatest adventure you can ever experience," he breathed, sliding his hands slowly down Hermione's arms then back again to her collarbone, then under her bushy hair, smoothing them over her throat.

Hermione sighed and leaned her head to one side in response. Snape's eyes glinted at the motion, at her surrender to his touch. He actually leaned forward and placed his lips against her ear.

"Do something to make your heart race again, something to make your blood rush through your veins in a torrent of uncontrolled emotion. Dare to be selfish, witch. Dare to disregard everything you believe your life is supposed to be and make it more. Challenge yourself, give yourself over to the Unknown," he implored her softly. "I can show you another world, another life, another experience."

Again he drew out the last word, hissing it like the serpent of Eden. And like Eve, Hermione was enraptured, at his words and the feel of his hands gently stroking her toward acceptance.

"I can take you to places Ronald Weasley could never even approach," he breathed. "With me, Hermione, every part of you will be tested, brought out into the open and tried by the fire. Your mind, your body and even your soul. I understand you better than you understand yourself. I know what you need. What I need."

Hermione sighed again, her eyes closed and Snape moved to the other side of her head, pulling back her hair and once again resting his lips against the witch's ear.

"Be daring, witch," he said to her softly, "Be daring and compulsive like you used to be. Dare to dive into the ocean of opportunity I am offering you and see if you are drowned or buoyed by its depthsssss . . ."

Suddenly Snape pressed his lips to her throat, just beneath the curve of her jaw line, the cruel mouth soft and persuasive.

"Join me in this adventure," he breathed, pulling the witch back against him now, since she didn't protest his explorative kiss.

To Hermione, everything had taken on a dream-like quality. The room, the situation and even the dark wizard himself, his soft voice hypnotic, unreal and compelling.

Snape turned her to face him, holding her by her shoulders firmly. Hermione looked up at his hawkish features, his pale, sallow face surrounded by lank, oily hair. He still looked severe and harsh, his nostrils pulsating slightly as if he were scenting her, the corner of his mouth curled as he looked down at her. But his eyes . . .his eyes. There was something in the wizard's black eyes that seemed to draw her in, that wouldn't let her break away.

"Join me," Snape hissed, lowering his mouth to hers slowly and capturing her lips between his own.

* * *

A/N: Short chapter I know. But it has a little punch to it. Thanks for reading. 


	4. Too Much Heat

**Chapter 4 Too Much Heat**

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Professor Snape had captured her lips with his own, and was kissing her. His lips were soft, but demanding as they suckled and moved against her mouth. The wizard had a skill Hermione never dreamed he possessed. His kiss was so different from Ron's kiss.

Ron had a tendency to bruise her mouth in the beginning of their relationship, he was always so hot and ready for snogging. He would attack rather than try and ease Hermione into a response, thinking ardor to be just as acceptable as true passion.

Now that they were intimate, whenever Ron kissed her, he immediately thrust his tongue into her mouth with no warm-up or preparation. It wasn't that he was thoughtless, just rather randy all the time. Sort of like a dog in rut.

So this gentle, sensuous kissing was something new to Hermione. Ugly as he was, obviously Snape had experience in kissing, though how he learned to do it so well was a mystery. Who would willingly let him kiss her?

Obviously, someone would and had. Judging by his skill, Hermione wasn't the first.

Up to this point, Hermione had found nothing attractive about the Potions master at all. But with her eyes closed and his mouth moving against her lips this way, her perception was quickly changing. And it shouldn't be.

No. No, this was wrong, he was manipulating her. Offering her the world and taking advantage of her inexperience with wizards. He was a devil with a tempting inner flame . . . a searing incubus beneath his cold exterior. She should have known Snape would be this way, he was sure and meticulous in everything he did.

Apparently, even when he did witches.

But gods, his lips felt so good against her mouth and before, against her throat. What would it be like for him to . . .

No. No. This was Professor Snape, a man who cared for no one, who rejected contact . . . closeness with others. He was not someone to get involved with . . .

But Merlin, his mouth felt good . . . so good.

Hermione fought the inner battle, caught between wanting more and wanting to stop this before it went any further. Already she could feel herself responding powerfully. She had to regain control. She was the woman. The woman controlled these matters. A simple "stop" or "no" would end this.

Why was it so hard to say "stop" or "no?"

Despite receiving the best kiss of her life, Hermione had to say something to the wizard to end his possession of her lips. She had to say something because it was just too hard to pull away.

Hermione tried to speak against his lips, but Snape felt the subtle change and spoke first, his voice smooth and rich like honey as he continued to kiss her between his words, not letting go, not giving her a chance to respond or hardly breathe.

"You are thinking I shouldn't be kissing you . . ."

Kiss.

"You are thinking you shouldn't be allowing me to kiss you . . ."

Kiss.

"But you are . . ."

Kiss.

"Because I make you feel something . . ."

Kiss.

"and you are ready to feel something . . . anything other than the ordinary and the familiar . . ."

Kiss.

"Your heart is racing . . ."

Kiss.

"You feel . . . confused . . .torn . . ."

Kiss.

"But this is not confusion . . .and you have not yet been torn . . ."

Kiss.

"This is . . . exploration . . ."

Kiss.

"The first . . ."

Kiss.

"Of many journeys to come . . ."

Kiss.

"if you say you'll join me . . ."

Kiss.

"Let me show you how exciting . . ."

Kiss.

"life can be, we can be . . . together . . ."

Kiss.

"Say you'll join me, Hermione Granger . . . say you'll join with me."

Snape deepened the kiss, pulling the witch against his body as he slipped his tongue between her lips, licking at her supple muscle gently, then entwining it in his own. If Hermione were going to stop him, going to pull away in disgust and horror, she would do it now. His words had a double meaning, and if the witch didn't stop him, he would continue and bind her to him in a more physical and pleasurable manner. Snape had no doubt he was a better lover than Weasley and if he could show the witch there was something more to him, possibly he could steal her away.

The idea of stealing Hermione from Ronald Weasley was appealing on a number of levels. Maybe Weasley would even want to duel him for her before they left on their travels. What a wonderful opportunity that would be to singe his redheaded arse before departing England. A great going away gift.

Hermione gave herself over to the kiss, she couldn't help herself as he gathered her against him, one hand splayed against her lower back, the other lightly pressing against her shoulder. This wasn't the crushing troll hug Ron gave her. This was something better, something that told her Snape was aware she was a human being, a living creature and had even presence of mind not to try and crush the life out of her because he was randy.

Hermione could feel Snape's lean frame beneath his robes, warm and hard as if he wore nothing under them. His body type was nothing like Ron's physique. Snape was shorter to start with. Ron was six feet tall and his musculature well-defined. The Professor stood about about five foot ten and was slight of build. Hermione could feel no definition other than firmness. But that firmness pressed against her made her feel warm all over.

They stood there, body to body, mouth to mouth, exploring each other, Snape's hands gently pressing her skin, his fingertips rippling over the base of Hermione's spine. Yes, it seemed the witch were willing. Snape pulled back from her mouth, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the flushed, breathless witch.

"Do you dare, Hermione?" he breathed at her.

"Dare? Dare what?" she asked him, a bit dazed.

"Dare stay the night with me. Then you can give me your answer in the morning," the wizard said softly.

Hermione blinked at him, her eyes losing their sloe-eyed look. Snape immediately realized he had miscalculated. He should have continued to kiss the witch and seduce her in that manner, rather than asking her.

He had given her an out, and Hermione took it.

"No. No I can't. I have to think about this. I mean, if I join you, then you expect me to sleep with you as well? Is that the price of my participation?" she asked him.

Snape's face turned red and he let her go quickly.

"Of course not!" he snapped at her disdainfully. "If I merely wanted someone to shag during lulls, Hermione, I could hire the local talent. I want you because you are qualified. I want you because I know you will love the life as much as I. This . . . this would have only been a bonus for the both of us. If we were compatible, then neither would have to suffer the occasional bout of loneliness for the opposite sex. But it isn't a requirement. I will never approach you again if that is what you want, and give you an Oath on it. It was just that I felt a response in you . . . and acted on it. I felt . . . I felt you were ready to take a chance and explore sex with someone other than Weasley. I see now that I was mistaken."

Hermione looked at him for a moment. He looked angry and unsettled. The corner of his mouth was twitching as he returned her gaze. Suddenly he reached into his pocket and curtly handed Hermione her wand.

"So, do you want an oath? That way you will insure that someone as unattractive and undesirable as myself will never approach you for intimacy again," he said in a low voice.

"It's not necessary," she said softly. "Not right now. You've stopped and that's enough."

Snape looked at her consideringly, once again tracing his lips with a thin fingertip.

"Very well. But you will at least think about my offer?" he asked her coldly as he billowed to the far wall and opened it so Hermione could exit his study.

Hermione seemed to hesitate as he opened the wall, then suddenly walked forward and stopped in front of the wizard. His mouth was held in a tight line as he looked at her.

"Yes, I will think about it. I have until the end of the term to decide, don't I?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied.

"You'll know my answer by then," Hermione said to him, then walked through the door. Snape didn't follow, but stood there, half in shadow as Hermione opened the office door.

She looked back at him.

"Good night, Severus," she said to him.

"Good night, Hermione," he replied softly.

Hermione exited the office and Snape warded the door behind her. He turned back into his study, closing the wall and returning to his armchair. He sat there until the fire burned down to nothing but embers, silent and brooding over the only person who could help him escape this dismal existence.

Hermione simply had to say yes.

* * *

The next day Hermione returned to her flat she kept in Little Hangelton. She did the books for a crotchety old landlord who reminded her of Filch both in temperament and build. His name was Edgar Snortsworthy. He was thin, had scraggly long white hair, was arthritic and walked with a knobby cane which he waved threateningly at children every chance he got. However Edgar liked and trusted Hermione and gave her the flat for a mere pittance when he found out she had been accepted as a teacher at Hogwarts.

"Surely you'll need a spot for the holidays and weekends. What about your beau? Are you always going to see him at his flat?" the old wizard asked her.

This is precisely what made Hermione decide to keep the place. So she would have someplace of her own to stay other than with Ron. He still lived at the Burrow. There was nothing Hermione could imagine worse than shagging with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nearby. Ron wouldn't care a bit.

Only two hours after she arrived, Ron knocked on the door. Hermione opened it, smiling up at him.

"Hi Ron," she said to the red-haired wizard.

"Oi, Hermione," Ron replied jovially, giving her a peck on the lips then striding into her flat as if he owned it. "I'm glad you're on holiday. After a month and a half of celibacy, I could use a good shag. I'll be in the bedroom.

Ron disappeared down the hallway and Hermione could hear the sounds of him undressing. She sighed.

It was always like this. Sex took precedence and whenever she balked, Ron would become pouty and disagreeable until she gave in.

Hermione walked down the doorway and stood in it. Ron was already down to just his boxers. They were white and had large red hearts all over them.

"I got these for you," he said, ripping them off and hopping into the bed, patting it invitingly.

"Come on in, the mattress is fine," he said to the witch, gripping his erection and swinging it back and forth in invitation.

Hermione shook her head slightly. Ron had no idea of romance. He used to try and be romantic long ago, but that was when he was courting Hermione. Once he got the knickers down he felt there was no longer any need for romance. He had accomplished his goal. He had "arrived." He had claimed the final frontier and it was his.

"Ron, how about we just talk a little first," Hermione said to him softly.

"Talk? Oh no, Hermione . . . why do we have to talk now?" he asked her, a whine in his voice. His erection drooped a little.

"Because I'm sick and tired of you popping in here and expecting me to flip my heels in the air just because you're present," she snapped at him.

"You've been gone a long time. A wizard has needs you know," he said to her reproachfully.

"So does a witch, and it isn't all based on your wand," she replied coldly.

Ron saw the angry expression on her face and decided it would be wise to just go ahead and talk. Maybe if he gave short answers, it wouldn't take so long. Ron's idea of talking was Hermione asking him a lot of rather inane questions and he answering them. Why did witches always want to do this when there was shagging to be done?

"All right. Let's talk then. What's on your mind, Hermione?" he said, slipping under the covers.

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Ron, would you ever want to travel the world?" she asked him.

Ron looked at her incredulously.

"Travel the world? Oh . . . no. Why would I do that when everything I want I have here?" he replied.

"Don't you miss the adventures we used to have? The excitement and the dangers?" she asked him.

Ron looked at her as if she were nutters.

"No I don't miss it! I was scared out of my mind half the time. I have a nice, quiet life now and I like it. I enjoy my job, I have friends and family, and I have you. That's all a bloke needs to be happy, Hermione," Ron said to her.

Hermione fell silent.

"What about the future, Ron?" Hermione asked him. "What are your plans for the future?"

Ron studied her.

"Is this about marriage, Hermione?" he asked her, his face going a bit ashen.

"No!" she snapped. "I just want to know."

"Well, I plan to build a house near the Burrow, get married and have children," he said.

"That's it?" Hermione asked him.

"Yeah, that's it. Isn't that enough?" he asked the witch. "My dad did it and he's perfectly happy. And so is my mum."

Molly was probably baking pie and cakes when she was two days old. The witch was a natural-born wife and mother from the womb, Hermione was sure of it. Molly Weasley was truly satisfied with the life of a homemaker. She found caring for her family challenging and rewarding. Hermione saw nothing wrong with that if that was a witch's inclination.

It wasn't her inclination that's for sure. She fell silent for several minutes.

Finally Ron asked, "Are we done talking?"

Hermione looked at him and sighed at the expectancy and impatience on his face as he rested propped against the headboard.

"Yeah, Ron, we're finished talking," she said, standing up and beginning to undress.

Two minutes later as she laid under Ron, who was panting and grunting as he hunched into her body, Hermione's thoughts turned to Snape. He wasn't as good-looking or well-built as Ron, but she was next to positive he wouldn't simply climb on and go to town as if she had no feelings or needs of her own.

Suddenly Ron shouted "Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!" and Hermione felt him ejaculate, gasping his pleasure, then rolling off her to his back, panting with a tired smile.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said to the witch, patting her hand as she lay on her back stiffly.

"You're welcome, Ron," she responded, her voice just as stiff.

Ron didn't notice as his eyes fluttered. Soon, he was snoring.

Hermione gazed at Ron, at his long, attractive body, flaccid organ and tousled red-hair. He looked darling when he was sleeping. But was darling enough?

"Do I really want a lifetime of this?" Hermione asked herself, rolling out of the bed and heading for the shower.

She had to cook something. When Ron woke up, he'd want something to eat.

* * *

A/N: Ah, a bit of restraint on Hermione's live and a bit of what it's like to be with Ron. Thanks for reading. 


	5. Consideration

**Chapter 5 ~ Consideration**

Ron didn't spend the night. After having a meal and unsuccessfully trying to cajole Hermione into another bit of shagging, the red-headed wizard left with the promise he'd see her tomorrow evening, making plans to go to Muggle London and catch a movie.

"Whatever you want to see is fine," Ron said to her, kissing her on the cheek before he left. Hermione's fake smile faded the moment the door closed.

She always knew she wasn't really happy with Ron as a boyfriend, but like a lot of women thought that maybe she would be able to change him and make him into the ideal man. And like most women she found it was her own life that was slowly changing. There were things she liked about Ron, and she guiltily thought that sex shouldn't be an issue. What kind of person dumps someone because of something unimportant like sex? There were other things more important to consider in a relationship.

Hermione, as brilliant as she was concerning gathering knowledge and learning things, didn't really delve into sexual matters in that way. She had no one to talk to about Ron because she didn't have girlfriends. Well, there was Ginny, but Ginny was Ron's sister and Hermione didn't feel it would be right or comfortable to discuss her sex life with her.

Besides, men enjoyed sex more than women did. Women controlled when the act was done but men had the upper hand. Maybe this was just how it was and she should be glad to have a man at all. There were probably worse ones out there than Ron, men who would cheat on her, abuse her, maybe even strike her. She'd heard a lot of horrible stories about witches who ended up with men like that. Men that started out wonderful and then changed once they had established a relationship. Ron could be slightly controlling but Hermione could handle him. He'd back down if she wasn't agreeable. Not every wizard would be that way.

Poor, uninformed, repressed and sexually frustrated Hermione.

Hermione picked up a book and retired to her bedroom, planning to read until she fell asleep, but as she tried to do so, she found she was distracted. A pair of narrowed black eyes kept intruding on her thoughts and ruining her concentration.

Professor Snape.

Hermione sighed. What was going on here? It made sense that the Professor might steal a bit of her focus because of his offer. It was very exciting. But what she was thinking about were his kisses. How moving they had been . . . how seductive. She felt she could have kissed the wizard all night, he was just that good.

Hermione shuddered. Gods, he was so blasted ugly though. She didn't find anything remotely attractive about Severus Snape physically. First, he was almost twice her age. No, that wasn't right, but he was much older than she was. His complexion was just this side of sickly and he was very thin. He looked as if he suffered from some kind of condition. His hair was always oily and greasy-looking as if he didn't wash it. But she had been close to him and he smelled quite clean, even his hair despite how it looked. And she couldn't even begin to comment on his looks. Perhaps if his face wasn't perpetually scowling he'd look better. But it was most likely stuck like that now, that huge nose wrinkled with disdain at any given moment. He'd looked like that for years. How could she even consider doing anything with him?

Hermione put her book on the nightstand and lay down on her back, waiting for sleep to come. It eventually did, and the witch found herself back at Hogwarts. She was surrounded by students, every one of them looking at her with disdain. She was little, bushy-haired and bucktoothed again. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her.

"Why don't you go to the kitchens, Granger? You can use those teeth to help the House Elves open cans," he drawled nastily as the other students laughed.

"You could use that hair to help scour out pots," Millicent Bulstrode added to even more scornful laughter.

The students all taunted and teased her, gathering around the witch so she couldn't escape.

"You're so ugly, Granger that anyone who shags you is going to have to pull your robes over your face," Draco laughed as tears streamed down her face.

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" Hermione cried, then finally managed to push by them, running down the dungeon corridor blinded by her tears. Suddenly she ran into someone. She looked up to find Professor Snape looking down at her, his eyes narrowed and his mouth held in a tight line.

"What is the matter with you, Miss Granger?" he asked her harshly.

Hermione looked up at the wizard.

"A group of students surrounded me, teasing me and calling me names," Hermione replied.

Snape's scowl lessened at bit.

"When you act like a know-it-all you can expect that, but be assured it stems from jealousy," the wizard said.

"N…no. They were teasing me because of my teeth and hair. They said I was ugly," Hermione said to him.

Snape looked at her with a rather odd expression. His mouth twitched slightly as if it didn't want to open at first. Then the wizard spoke.

"As brilliant as you are, Miss Granger, you are being quite thick. True beauty is not something that is visible, and not something the shallow can recognize. Beauty radiates from within, through the traits and character of a person. Beauty comes from the heart. Physical attractiveness fades, because it is a finite illusion. It is the inner beauty that is the true reflection of who you are. It is the inner beauty that matters in the end. You have to remember that. Don't be shallow and judge others solely on appearance. And don't be concerned if others don't see your beauty. I assure you, it is there."

Hermione looked up at the dour wizard, unable to believe he had said something kind to her.

"Th . . . thank you, Professor Snape," she said, wiping at her eyes.

She really did feel better.

"You're welcome Miss Granger. Now thirty-five points from Gryffindor for almost running me down," he purred with a nasty little curl of his lip, completely in character now.

Hermione suddenly awoke and lay on her back, thinking about the dream-professor's words.

"I'm being shallow concerning Professor Snape," she said to herself, then set about thinking what was good about him. Surprisingly, there was quite a bit when she thought about it.

First off, he was a brave wizard. He had proved that by his service to the Wizarding World. He was also the kind of man that could put his personal feelings on the backburner and do what was necessary to be done. He proved that when he protected Harry, whom he clearly despised. He was also a dedicated teacher, determined to force knowledge into the resistant little heads of his dunderheaded students. He was very talented at Potions as well as Spell making. In fact, it could be said he was a genius. Then, there were actually physical things about him that were attractive. The way he moved for example. He had a smooth, almost graceful stride, although there was a time when Hermione noticed he was a bit . . . twitchy when he walked. She saw that in the Shrieking Shack. Possibly it was because he was expecting some kind of attack. He was right if that was the case because Nagini bit him.

Snape also had an amazing voice. She hadn't noticed it before but when he was speaking to her, he sounded so . . . there was no other word for it . . . sexy.

Hermione's nose wrinkled a bit at putting the word "sexy" together with the name "Snape" but, it was true. He had a voice that could turn a mountain to magma. It certainly had burned away Hermione's reserve for a few minutes.

Then there was the way he brewed his potions. He was meticulous and sure from beginning to end, from the cutting to the stirring to the finished product, his hands seeming as if they would never make a mistake. Oh, those hands. When he was massaging her shoulders, they felt wonderful. They felt as if he knew exactly where to touch to bring the most pleasure . . .

Hermione felt a bit of warmth in her belly, something she hadn't felt in a long time, not since she and Ron were courting and before they had sex. The sensation of growing desire. That delicious, sweet sense of longing.

"Oh my gods," Hermione breathed, pushing it away.

She didn't need to feel it. She didn't want to feel it.

But it stayed with her until she fell asleep.

* * *

The next day, Hermione decided to go to Diagon Alley and prowl Flourish & Blotts book shop. This was one of her main pleasures. She hated going with Ron however. He always went straight to the Quidditch section, then after he had looked through the newest titles, wanted to leave. Hermione could stay there for hours, especially since they now had a reading area with comfortable chairs and could purchase tea and cakes.

Hermione entered the shop and immediately had to duck as a large, rather fluttery book swooped down on her, barely missing her head. It was being pursued by a rather flustered assistant with a large butterfly net.

"Bloody book," he growled as he ran by her.

Hermione smiled. One never knew what they'd see at Flourish & Blotts. Many of the books were magical and almost seemed alive as they'd disappear, snap, bite and even chase employees that mistreated them.

She was standing by the magazine section and glanced over at it. There were the usual periodicals, and brown wrapped adult literature with just the titles showing such as "Playwitch," "Playwizard" and "Buns 'n Wands." Then she noticed one called "Witches Today."

On the cover was singing sensation and bombshell Catherine Hornsby, pouting and striking a pose reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe, breasts and bum slightly jutting out. Black-haired, green-eyed with a very healthy body, Catherine was gorgeous. But it wasn't the witch's beauty that attracted Hermione but the heading next to the kiss-blowing woman.

Catherine Hornsby: Why I Only Date Unattractive Wizards

Hermione's brows rose and she plucked the magazine out of the rack and leafed through it until she found the article. There was a picture of Catherine sitting on the lap of a very happy-looking bald, paunchy wizard. He was pretty ugly.

Hermione read the short article.

* * *

_Slicking on another layer of lipstick, Catherine Hornsby slings her bag over her shoulder and struts into the pub._

_A sea of dark, handsome heads turn to ogle her. Jaws drop and good-looking wizards raise their eyebrows or move in to offer her a drink._

_But Catherine walks on by. She only has eyes for one man. He's waiting for her in a dark corner. He's not one of the handsome blokes in sharp robes. He's not even 'average'._

_He's bald and podgy, with a pock-marked face, and is easily the ugliest wizard in the room. Catherine sidles into the chair next to him._

_'Hi, gorgeous,' she purrs. The man's gargoyle face breaks into a toothless smile._

_The good-looking wizards know they don't stand a chance._

_Catherine dated her fair share of hunky wizards, but has given up on gorgeous blokes because they're dull . . . both in and out of bed._

_'I can't imagine anything more boring than classic handsome looks,' she says. 'I prefer no teeth, baldness and piercings to model looks. I like celebs such as Vincent Schiavelli and Mackenzie Crook rather than Brad Pitt.'_

_'Ugly wizards try harder. They care more about you and treat you like a princess. Good-looking guys are self-obsessed. That's not attractive.'_

_And Catherine is not alone. In a recent study, it was found only a third of witches said looks were the first thing that attracted them to a man. Most preferred a sense of humor, powerful magical ability or career success._

_Researchers also believe ugly wizards exist as a way of repairing our gene pool. Witches would rather date wizards with good genes, who can fight disease easily, than a classically beautiful man._

_So are good looks really that important? Catherine Hornsby and a number of witches definitely don't think so._

* * *

Hermione blinked as she finished the article and put it back in the rack. She couldn't imagine Severus Snape treating her (or anyone} like a princess unless it involved locking her in a tall tower or something. But Catherine had a point, although Hermione only had Ron for an example. He was rather self-obsessed most of the time, as well as not the greatest in bed. Dull wasn't quite the word, more like selfish. For example, Ron liked receiving oral sex but not giving it.

"I don't like the way it tastes," he'd complain.

Needless to say, Ron didn't get very many blowjobs out of Hermione. His idea of foreplay were a few hard kisses and gropes, and he never even fingered her below to help prepare her. If she were dry, he'd simply spit in his hand and apply it liberally to his tool, then go for the gold. If Hermione wanted fingering, she'd have to do it herself.

She wasn't sure if this was how sex was for everyone, but it wasn't anything stellar for her, though there had been a few times when it was better and she managed to orgasm. But it didn't happen that often. Ron could be rather rabbit-like and it didn't bother him a bit. He always climaxed after all and that was the main purpose of having sex . . . so he accomplished what he set out to do.

Ron wasn't all bad however. He could make Hermione laugh and they did go out dancing or to the movies on occasion. Unlike most men, Ron would sit through "sensitive" movies with little complaint . . . although he snoozed most of the time, Hermione elbowing him when he'd start to snore.

Hermione then walked to the research section of the bookshop, eyeing several titles until she found one that looked interesting.

"Legendary Potions of Our Time and Way Before"

Hm. She picked it up and flipped through the pages. She saw a few potion names she recognized from the professor's map. She read a bit, then purchased the book. She didn't stay at the shop long, but hurried home so she could get in a bit of reading before Ron arrived.

Ron did arrive that evening, but found a note on the door that said Hermione had gone for the evening. The note didn't say where she went, but Ron figured maybe she'd gone to see her parents for some and left.

He'd find out what happened tomorrow.

* * *

What happened was that the book she purchased had fired Hermione's imagination so much, that she just had to go and see Snape to get some idea of his exact plans and how feasible they were. How would he travel? What potion was he going after first? What accommodations would he have?

Hermione was full of questions and the dark wizard was the only one who could answer them. Now, this didn't mean she was going to go with him, oh no. She just wanted to find out how much planning he'd put into it.

She had some hypothetical questions as well. If she did go, what would she do for money? She figured he would pay her way, but Snape didn't strike her as someone who would just throw money around. There would have to be some conditions. He already said it wouldn't be necessary to sleep with him, although it would be convenient for both of them.

Convenient. Right.

But he had to have something up his robes sleeve, and she wanted to know what it was. If he protested her questioning him, she'd simply say she had to have a good understanding of what he intended to do to make an informed decision.

He'd have to tell her what she wanted to know if he truly wanted her to come with him.

As she stood outside the Potions office, Hermione had the sensation of lacewing flies fluttering around her stomach. Why was she so nervous? She rapped on the door hard.

There was no answer.

She did it again.

Still, no answer.

Then she pounded on the door and it was ripped open, professor Snape standing in the doorway imperiously, his face in a snarl. Hermione felt her belly flip over at the sight of him.

"What is it, damn it!" he yelled in irritation, almost blowing Hermione's hair back before he realized who it was.

"I thought you went home for the holidays," he said to her in a calmer voice, displeasure clearly on his pale face. "I should have known someone would interrupt my free time."

"Hello to you as well," Hermione snapped at him.

Snape looked down his nose at her.

"Enough niceties. What do you want?" he asked her impatiently.

For someone who wanted Hermione to travel around the world with him, the professor wasn't being very accommodating.

"I have some questions for you. About your travel plans," Hermione said to him.

"Questions?" the wizard repeated, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, questions. I need to know some things so I can make an informed decision. Surely you don't expect me to just go because you want me to go?" she said to the wizard.

"That would be convenient," he replied, "But I suppose impossible. Very well. Come in and wait for me in the study. I'm in the middle of brewing. And don't touch anything."

Snape stalked back into his office and opened the wall, standing aside. Inside it was dark and cold.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to start your own fire," the wizard said, "I have to return to my lab or my potion will be ruined."

He turned and billowed away down the short corridor that connected his office to the classroom and lab.

Hermione looked after him for a moment, then inside the dark interior of the study. She pulled out her wand.

"Lumos," she said, the tip of her wand lighting up. She entered the freezing study, her wand drawn. She quickly walked over to the fireplace.

"Flambe!" she said, igniting it. The flames crackled merrily, warmth spreading quickly. Snape must have charmed the fireplace to heat the area swiftly. Hermione pocketed her wand then rubbed her palms together in front of the fire to warm her hands. Idly, she then wandered around the room, looking at the titles Snape had in his private library. She saw a book that looked interesting and pulled it out.

Immediately a loud, clanging alarm sounded and Hermione quickly pushed the book back into its proper place, expecting Snape to appear, ranting and raving.

But he didn't.

Snape had heard the alarm, but he had expected to hear it. He smirked slightly as he stirred the potion he was brewing clockwise several times.

"Still a rule breaker," he said under his breath.

* * *

A/N: A/N: Catherine's "Article" was adapted from an actual article: We Only Date Ugly Men; published May 22nd, 2007 in "The Sun" (British Periodical) Thanks for reading. ***


	6. Questions and Answers

**Chapter 6 Questions and Answers**

Two and a half hours later, Snape entered the study to find a narrow-eyed Hermione waiting for him. He looked surprised for a moment, then his lip curled slightly.

"I thought you would have disabled the alarm ward on my books by now and I'd return to find you neck deep in text," the wizard said, sweeping past the witch and heading straight for his liquor cabinet.

"You could have told me it would be an hour or two before you'd be able to talk with me, Severus. I could have gone to my own quarters and done a bit of reading while waiting," Hermione snapped at the wizard as he poured himself a Firewhiskey.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her sardonically.

"I suppose I could have . . . but I didn't," he responded, taking a sip of his drink then walking over to an armchair and sitting down in front of the fire.

Hermione glared at the back of his head for a moment, then walked around and sat in the armchair next to him, frowning blackly as he took another sip of his drink. Snape let out a small rasp and set the drink down on the small table between them.

"So, are you going to grill me, or simply scowl at me?" the Potions master asked her.

Hermione thought she'd like to hex him for being an inconsiderate git, but she got down to it.

"Firstly, I want to know if I decided to go with you, how the monetary situation will work. I am going to need things, personal items. I don't have much money of my own. Are you going to pay my way?" Hermione asked him directly.

Snape frowned at her slightly.

"I don't give away money, Hermione. You will be given what you need, but I will keep records of it. When we acquire a potion or elixir and do our research, it will be with the purpose of finding some use for it in a marketable manner. Once we do that, I will recoup my expenditures from your half of the monies, then issue you the rest. We will be partners. I will not be your 'Sugar Daddy,'" he said pointedly.

Hermione harrumphed.

"As if someone as sour as you could be anyone's 'sugar' anything," the witch replied.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her.

"I beg to differ, Hermione. I can be quite 'sweet' to witches, given the opportunity," he said silkily.

Hermione fought down the flush she felt at the wizard's words. Indeed, he had felt rather sweet when he kissed and massaged her.

"Sickly sweet. Like saccharine," she said dismissively, trying to appear unaffected.

Snape smirked slightly.

"A little goes a long way," he purred at her.

"All right, enough. I'm not here for this. I'm here to have questions answered," she snapped at him, feeling slightly flustered.

"There are spoken questions and unspoken questions, Hermione," the wizard said softly, his black eyes glinting. "I am quite good at discerning non-verbal inquiries. It's how I survived all those years as a spy. I had to be able to anticipate the questions I would eventually have to answer."

"Well, save your 'anticipation,' Professor. I am quite capable of asking you what I need to ask. Now, where do you plan to travel to first?" Hermione asked the wizard, trying to get her focus back.

Snape looked at her for a moment.

"We would start in Egypt," he said, watching Hermione closely. He had purposely used the word "we" to include her.

Her eyes lit up a bit at his reply and she looked as if she were trying to hide her excitement.

The professor continued, his voice once again turning rather hypnotic.

"We will be seeking an elixir known as 'Aab-e-Hayaat' or 'Dancing Water."

Hermione had read about that.

"That's the Elixir of Immortality," she breathed. "Some associate it with the Philosopher's Stone."

Snape nodded, rather pleased that Hermione was doing her homework. It boded well for her participation in his plans.

"Yes, as a by-product of the stone's creation. But if this were true, why would anyone use the Philosopher's Stone rather than the Elixir? The Philosopher's Stone has to be used constantly in order to be effective, and it has no youthening properties. A person's immortality begins from the age the stone is first utilized. If a wizard is in his hundreds, he will remain aged. And if the stone is lost, the immortal aspects will fade. The Elixir of Immortality will last forever," Snape said to her. "This fact makes it highly unlikely that the Elixir comes from the making of the stone."

Hermione's eyes danced at the possibility of the elixir's existence.

"Imagine, being able to live forever," she said rather breathlessly.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"It is not the gift you believe it is. The body cannot die or the spirit be separated from it. A person can become ill to the point of death or maimed by an accident and not be able to die from it, but will continue on. Even if the body is cut up, life and spirit remains. It is said that those who displeased Thoth were fed the elixir, cut into pieces and buried in a secret chamber beneath the desert sands, doomed to stay conscious and in pain until the end of the world," Snape told her, noting the horror in her eyes.

"That's horrible," Hermione said.

"The elixir itself is purported to also be in that chamber," the wizard added. "Many have sought to find it, but they were Muggles and didn't have our abilities. I've created a spell that can detect life wherever it is. Even underground. It is a modified healer spell, greatly amplified. And I have knowledge of the approximate locations where the followers of Thoth worshipped. There were several lesser sites and one major site. The last site has been thoroughly ravaged however. Chambers were discovered but they contained no living flesh. Yet there were texts. I have translated copies of most of them."

Hermione leaned forward in the chair excitedly.

"You have copies of them? May I see them?" she asked the wizard excitedly.

Snape furrowed his brow at her.

"Only someone who is going to work with me will be allowed to read those texts. How am I to know for certain that you will not embark on your own and become a competitor?" he asked Hermione, who scowled.

"Like I have the money to go to Egypt and dig around in the sand," she said.

Snape shrugged.

"You could get a sponsor," he replied.

"I wouldn't do that!" Hermione declared.

"So you say now. But when the reality that your life is a sham truly hits you, Hermione, you may change your mind," the wizard said evenly. "I can't take that risk."

Hermione stared at the wizard, then sighed. No, Snape was cautious. Suddenly, a thought hit her.

"You know, since we won't be in Wizarding England, we'll be able to use technology," she said to him brightly, unaware she had used the word "we."

Snape noticed it however and was heartened. Still he scowled at her and stood up.

"Of course I know," he said snarkily, walking over to his desk and reaching beneath it, pulling something out and carrying it back to Hermione. "This is the first bit of equipment I've purchased. Of course it doesn't work here, and even if it did, I'm afraid I'm a two-finger typist. However, I am certain you are not."

Hermione's eyes widened. Snape held a laptop computer in his pale hands. She took it from him and examined it.

"Are those solar panels?" she asked him.

Snape nodded.

"It will save power as well as recharge the batteries inside," he replied.

Hermione frowned up at him.

"But, how do you know about laptops, Professor?" she asked him.

Snape frowned at her.

"I'm a half-blood, witch. You know that. I am quite aware of the technologies available," he said scathingly. "I even know how to drive."

The wizard reached into his robes pocket and removed a wallet, flipping it open and showing Hermione his pink license issued from the British Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency. He was wearing robes. Whoever took that picture must have had lessons in making already unattractive people look infinitely worse.

Hermione blinked at the license, then up at Snape. He was so "wizardy" that she had forgotten he grew up in Spinners End, a Muggle area. Of course he'd understand the Muggle lifestyle. His father was one.

But Hermione had never seen the Professor in Muggle clothing. He always wore robes. Even the other staff members made the rare attempt at dressing Muggle when going among them, although they had no fashion sense or idea what went with what. Snape wore robes no matter where he went. People probably thought he was some kind of cleric, or cult member. Most probably thought he was a devil-worshipper with that perpetual scowl.

Maybe Snape never wore Muggle clothing because he purposely downplayed his Muggle ancestry. That could be it. He wouldn't have wanted Voldemort dwelling on the fact that he was a half-blood, like Harry. It made a kind of twisted sense.

"I'm sorry. I'd forgotten you are half Muggle," she said to him.

"That's 'half-blood!" he snarled at her. "I don't use the word Muggle in relation to myself. Ever. I am a wizard!"

"All right. Sorry," Hermione said to him.

Did he hate Muggles so much? The professor seemed to have a few personal issues. Well, he was human after all, but he had never seemed as human to Hermione as he did now. Snape took the laptop back from her with some attitude, then returned it to his desk.

He walked back over to the chairs and sat down, picking up his Firewhiskey and finishing it. Then he looked at Hermione.

"Are you finished questioning me?" he asked her.

"One more question. How to you plan to get to Egypt? What mode of travel? Port key? Apparation? Broom?" she asked him.

Snape actually sneered at her.

"Port keys? Brooms? How about I glue together a few feathers with wax and we just wing our way there, being careful to avoid the sun?" he asked her snarkily. "We'd go by plane of course. We will only be using magic when it's necessary and the better choice. I prefer no one learns of our magical nature. It will make life easier on both of us. Muggles have a tendency to think of witches and wizards like genies. We'd be deluged by idiots wanting us to conjure them up riches or make someone fall in love with them. Two impossible acts as you know."

Yes, Hermione did know. That went against the laws that governed magic. Life, Love, Money and Food could not be magically created. There were limits.

But Snape on a plane? Merlin, it was hard to imagine him sitting strapped inside a plane. Obviously he had traveled in that manner before. Most witches and wizards were scared to death of airplanes, not understanding how Muggles managed to keep something so heavy up in the air for so long.

Hermione was daydreaming a bit.

"Anything else?" Snape snapped at her. Hermione looked at him wildly for a moment.

"Ah, no. That's all for now. Thank you, Professor," Hermione said to him, rising.

Snape looked up at her.

"Sit down, Hermione. Since I have so graciously given up some of my free time for you, you can return the favor. I have several questions for you," the wizard said, his voice soft.

Hermione hesitated, then sat back down. It would be rude to leave when he did answer her questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asked him.

Snape simply looked at her and ran his finger around his lips. Hermione came to realize he did that unconsciously when he was thinking. She was learning his mannerisms.

"I want to know what made you come here to see me only after one day of spending your holiday away from the school?" he said to her.

"I told you. I had questions," Hermione said.

"Yes. I know what you told me," the wizard said coldly, "but what you've told me isn't necessarily the case. I imagine you saw Weasley when you arrived home," he said to the witch, his eyes narrowed as he studied her.

Hermione colored a little.

"Yes, I did see him," she said shortly.

"Was it a . . . happy reunion?" Snape asked her.

"That's none of your business," Hermione growled. She was irritated because it really hadn't been that happy. It was "business as usual" or in other words went straight to the shagging.

"But it is my business, Hermione. Weasley is the main obstacle that can keep you from coming with me. Your misguided sense of loyalty toward him. I don't want you to be either happy or satisfied with him. He isn't worthy of you," Snape said to her softly. "If it is at all possible, I intend to convince you of that, one way or another."

"You can't convince me of anything," Hermione snapped at him. "It's my decision to make. Not yours."

"Well, I find it quite interesting that after only one day you've seen fit to spend your evening with me, rather than your . . . boyfriend. Surely you haven't had enough of him already. He hadn't seen you in weeks. By rights, you should both be snuggled up under the bed sheets getting reacquainted," Snape purred at her. "But you aren't snuggling, Hermione."

Hermione didn't say anything. She looked into the fire, not wanting to look Snape in the eyes.

"I suspect you aren't happy with some aspects of Weasley, some very important aspects. He is young and as inexperienced as you are concerning witches. He was never very creative while attending Hogwarts. I imagine that hasn't changed," Snape continued.

Hermione shifted in the chair a bit, but still didn't reply.

"It isn't fair that you are not experiencing life as you should, Hermione. I can see it, the dissatisfaction on your face. I can feel it pouring off your body. Weasley doesn't do it for you. I can tell, and that is a great weakness in your relationship. It is important that needs are met mutually. If there is no meeting of minds, there should at least be a meeting of the bodies. Many people stay together because the sex is good. It is . . . acceptable," he said to her.

Hermione looked at him, frowning.

"Professor, you are treading on ground you have no business treading on. What happens between Ron and I is my own affair. I would appreciate it if you'd keep your big nose out of it," she said to him angrily.

Instead of getting angry, Snape looked amused.

"Resorting to insults, witch? Yes, I can feel your frustration. I'm not helping it either, am I? Bringing all your little secrets to the fore and exposing them. I am simply trying to make you see that you are settling in all areas of your life when you shouldn't be. Every moment you spend with Ronald Weasley is a moment wasted. You deserve better, Hermione," the wizard said.

"And what? You think you would be better?" Hermione snapped at him.

"I think anyone would be better when you are not happy with who you have. At least explore other avenues, witch. It doesn't have to be with me, but with someone. Just so you can expand your horizons, find out that there is something more for you than you are accepting now. Have a fling, a one night stand . . . something that will break you away from the prison you are in," Snape said to her.

"I'm not in any prison," Hermione retorted.

Snape looked at her consideringly.

"Having sex with a woman is very much like brewing an original potion based on sight. You have to know when to act, when to stir with a soft hand or a harsh one, when to raise the heat or lower it. You have to understand when to throw something 'different' into the brew. Sex is responding to reactions and eliciting even more reactions, working toward a proper completion. And it is interaction, Hermione, the melding of two bodies into one body of mutual pleasure and satisfaction. It isn't something one partner is supposed to enjoy more than the other. It is a shared experience and if done correctly, one that can shatter your world," he breathed at her.

Hermione stared at the wizard. She had never heard sex described in such a way.

"You've never been properly . . . brewed, Hermione," Snape said softly. "I feel we would be quite compatible if you chose me to 'expand your horizons' with. It would only add to our working relationship. I know I am unattractive, witch . . . but don't judge the potion by its color. It's what it can do that matters."

Hermione blinked at him.

"Professor, did you come up with this idea thinking it would make me accessible to you?" she asked him directly.

"I can buy pussy!" the wizard declared. "And I am very good at controlling my urges. I've gone a long time without having the pleasure of a witch. It's just that I feel if you discovered what you were missing with Ronald Weasley, it would have a domino effect and you would clearly see everything else you've settled for and want to throw it off!"

Snape stood up suddenly, his face twisted.

"Get out, Hermione," he said to her, his voice low and controlled. "You are as thick as the walls of this castle if you can't see what I see happening to you. Go back to your mediocre life and shag your mediocre lover while you wait to return to a mediocre job teaching mediocre children. Go back and wallow in the sty of the commonplace that you've penned yourself into. I am offering you a life and experience that will make you into the witch you were meant to be, and all I'm getting is questions and denials. You turn my stomach. Get out!"

Snape lost his calmness then, storming over to the wall and opening it, staring at Hermione imperiously.

Wordlessly, Hermione walked through the opening, Snape following close behind her. She opened the office door and looked back at Snape. Once again he was standing half in light and half in shadow, his dark eyes resting on her. She could feel his disappointment tangibly.

"I'm not as thick as the castle walls," she said softly, exiting his office and pulling the door closed behind her.

Snape warded the door and returned to his study.

For the sake of both of them, he hoped Hermione was right.

* * *

A/N: Still sick but managed to get this out. I hope you found it interesting and entertaining. Thanks for reading. 


	7. A Real Eye Opener

**Chapter 7 A Real Eye Opener**

Hermione returned home feeling rather drained and out of sorts. Once again the Potions master had put one long thin finger on the pulse of her existence. She wasn't completely dissatisfied . . . or that was what she told herself, but there were situations in her life that weren't quite right.

"No one's life is perfect," she muttered as she let herself into her flat.

The truth was Hermione was heavily influenced by what others thought, as well as a desire to try and please everyone.

For example, everyone believed that she and Ron were meant to be together. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, the rest of the Weasley clan and even Harry. They would all be so disappointed in her if she broke it off with him and the Weasleys would probably never speak to her again. Hermione didn't have a lot of friends. In fact, her life was quite tied up with the Weasleys. She visited with them on every holiday, had dinner there every weekend when she worked at the Charms factory, and was included in everything they did. It was as if they were already family. And it was because she was with Ron. She would lose that sense of being accepted if she dumped him.

As she sunk into her mundane life, it was as if Ron validated her in some manner. She had a long, stable relationship with him. Not many witches her age could say that they'd been with only one wizard in their lives. That made her feel a little . . . superior.

But what was she sacrificing for that false sense of superiority? To hear Snape tell it, she was being stupid and not living her life to the fullest.

Hermione undressed and lay down in the bed.

No, she wasn't being stupid. She was being moral. Yes. Ron took her virginity and they had a "proper" relationship that proved she was a good, loyal witch, one that didn't run around or throw herself at every wizard that caught her eye. Not that any did. Hermione didn't dare think about other wizards, no matter how attractive they were. Only loose witches did that.

So why was she lying in bed thinking about professor Snape?

Because the dark wizard had touched upon a number of things Hermione wasn't brave enough to face herself, the primary problem being that her life was dull and commonplace on all fronts. In her younger years, Hermione had dreams of doing something that would have an impact, leave a real impression on the Wizarding World. Something of consequence.

What this something was, she had never pinned down, but with Snape's intervention, she was starting to see that life had much more to offer than a house within range of the Burrow, and an enormous amount of little red-headed Weasleys running about inside it demanding her attention.

But wasn't that what good witches did? Married and raised families?

Hermione rolled to her side, knowing that her thinking of Snape was about more than what he was attempting to make her see. It was how he had made her feel in that one weak moment. How his kiss and touch made her knees weak and his voice was like silk wrapping around her body, calling to it, beckoning more intimate contact. If he hadn't spoken his desire clearly and broken the spell he had weaved around her, she might have . . .

Hermione shuddered suddenly, goosebumps covering her body as a sharp twinge hit her belly. She knew what it was but didn't want to acknowledge it.

It was frightening. She was attracted to the Wizarding World's snarkiest wizard. Snape was unattractive, older than her and had a temper. But he was a hero, brilliant and courageous. And the way he talked about how sex was supposed to be . . .

But underlying everything else, what was most attractive about Professor Severus Snape, he was a man who had dreams of doing great things. Very great things. But they were more than dreams. He had a plan in place and was about to bring those dreams to fruition.

His dreams were in line with what Hermione's dreams used to be . . . before she settled into dull acceptance of what her reality was, the fire within slowly burning out.

Hermione lay there, looking up at the ceiling.

Yes. She had settled. But she had the love of Ron and his family, a secure position at Hogwarts and a stable future ahead, if not an exciting one. She could make herself be happy with what she had. Life could be a lot worse. She could die trying to escape from savages, or get crushed in some trap if she went with Snape. Her life could be very short.

But very rewarding every day she did survive. And the discoveries. Dear gods. She would have access to elixirs not seen for centuries if at all.

But did she want to risk what she had for what could be?

Maybe the sexual problems between her and Ron could be addressed. It's not as if they ever sat down and talked about it. Ron wasn't very sensitive. Telling him there was a problem directly might help, though Hermione was sure he wouldn't take her telling him she didn't enjoy their sex life well at all. Ron would immediately turn it all on himself, arguing she was putting him down. This happened any time Hermione attempted to correct him. It wouldn't be any different concerning sex. He'd probably be worse.

Hermione had to make a decision.

Little did she know, she was going to make it long before the end of term.

* * *

Traditionally, Hermione accompanied Ron to the Burrow on Christmas Eve. They would all have a nice dinner, socialize and then at midnight open their presents. She spent Christmas Day with her parents.

"I have something really special for you this year, Hermione," Ron said, smiling as they Apparated to his parent's home. "You're going to love it!"

Hermione was a bit hopeful that Ron did indeed get her something she'd enjoy. He wasn't the best gift buyer and stuck with books, but books he liked rather than she liked. About Quidditch mostly.

"I thought it would help you learn more about the teams. Then we can have good conversations about them," Ron would say when she opened the gift.

Sigh.

Maybe this year it would be different.

88888888888888888888888888888888888

There was the usual Christmas chaos at the Weasley household. George, Charlie and Percy were in attendance, as well as Fleur and Bill and Harry and Ginny. An empty plate and chair were in evidence at the meal as it was every year. That was Fred's chair and it was never left out. It was how they remembered him.

They had their meal, then chatted afterwards, sipping eggnog, singing carols, George getting yelled at by Molly for testing out new jokes on everyone and generally having a good time.

Then midnight rolled around, and the gifts were opened.

This time, it was unreal for Hermione. Completely unreal.

Molly gave her a handwritten, hand-bound book.

"Those are recipes of all Ron's favorite meals, Hermione. I know you'd appreciate having them on hand," Molly gushed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said with a smile as Mr. Weasley handed her a long package. It was easy to tell what it was.

"It's a broom!" Arthur exclaimed. "But it's not magic. It doesn't fly. You . . . you sweep with it. It's for cleaning. Isn't that something?"

Hermione looked at him a moment and sighed inwardly. Arthur Weasley felt everything Muggle was amazing. He had no idea she wouldn't find the broom as exciting as he did. Still, she thanked him.

Ginny and Harry gave her a negligee in royal blue.

"That's Ron's favorite color," Harry said blushing.

Fleur and Bill gave her a flatware set for four, and Charlie, Bill and Percy presented her with new pots, pans and silverware.

Hermione blinked at her "gifts" and then looked at Ron, who stood up importantly, his family looking at him smiling.

He produced a folded parchment from his pocket and handed it to Hermione.

"Happy Christmas," he said to her.

Hermione opened the parchment and visibly paled when she saw what it was. The plans for a house built hardly a stone's throw from the Burrow.

"I'm going to build a house," Ron said to her, taking something else out of his pocket and bending down on one knee in front of Hermione, who started to shake. It felt as if the walls were closing in on her.

Now she understood. The recipes, the negligee, the broom, the dishware. Everyone was in on this.

Ron opened the box. Inside it was a ring with a small diamond setting. Hermione's throat constricted, blood pounding in her ears as she saw Ron's mouth form the words . . . words she couldn't hear.

The faces of his family seemed to become close and distorted, gathering around her, trapping her in place. Gods, she couldn't breathe! She couldn't get any air! She had to get out of here!

"I've got to go!" Hermione cried, leaping up and running out of the door without a cloak or anything to protect her from the cold.

"Hermione!" Ron cried, taking off after her.

Molly shook her head.

"The poor thing. She's overcome with joy," she said.

Hermione ran through the yard as if pursued by Death Eaters.

"Hermione! Come back! You'll freeze out here!" Ron cried, running after her.

He had almost caught her when she Disapparated.

Ron Disapparated also, appearing at her flat and looking perplexed.

"Where did she go?" he wondered as he looked at the dark windows.

* * *

Professor Snape was dressed in his gray nightshirt and slippers, sitting before the fireplace and staring into the flames when he heard the pounding on his office door. Beside him on the table were the remnants of his supper and half a glass of Firewhiskey. Who the hell was that banging on his door this time of night? It was after one in the morning and Christmas Day. Whoever it was, they better have a damn good reason for disturbing him this way.

Snape grabbed his wand and exited his study. The pounding was still going on. His wand at the ready, he yanked the office door open.

"What is it?" he snarled, then his snarl faded as he looked at a wet-eyed and very pale Hermione Granger staring back at him as if she'd been frightened to death.

"May . . . may I come in, Severus?" she asked him, her voice pleading.

He caught a desperate note in her voice that made him respond.

"What happened? Why are you here this night? This late?" he asked her as he stepped back, his eyes narrowed as the witch entered.

Hermione blinked up at Snape gazing at his harsh face and into those cold, black eyes. He didn't look the least bit sympathetic. He looked irritated in fact. Yet here was where she came for comfort. She had come to him to feel safe.

And she did feel safe now . . . at least for the moment.

"I'm running for my life," she replied softly, then walked into his study.

Snape stared after her a moment, one finger rising to his lip as he stroked it thoughtfully.

Then he closed the door, warded it and entered the study behind her.

* * *

A/N: Well, it is called Yule Ride after all. :::snicker::: Thanks for reading. 


	8. Choice

**Chapter 8 Choice**

Snape raised the torches so the study was well-lit. Instead of heading for the armchairs, Hermione slowly sank down on the worn Slytherin green sofa, holding her face in her hands for a moment as the wizard walked up, looking down his nose at her.

"Running for your life, Hermione?" he said, "So am I to take it you decided to lead your potential killer here, not wanting to die alone? Or was that just another delightful bit of overblown Gryffindor dramatics? Those from your house to have a tendency to over exaggerate the seriousness of matters."

Hermione lifted her head and scowled up at him.

"All right. I might have over exaggerated a little. No one is out to kill me . . . not quickly at any rate," she said to him before she realized how the wizard was dressed.

Snape was wearing a long gray nightshirt made of linen that just covered his knees. His pale, thin legs were sparsely speckled with black hair and his feet encased in black bedroom slippers.

"Ah, a slow death then? Well, couldn't you be tortured in your own rooms? Why are you in mine?" he asked the witch, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Because . . . because he'll look for me there," Hermione replied softly, "and I don't want to see him."

"Who?" Snape snapped. "Stop talking in riddles and spurts and tell me what is going on before I eject you. It's after one in the morning."

"It's Ron. I'm hiding from Ron. He'd never expect me to be in your rooms," she said to Snape, who arched an eyebrow in interest.

"Hiding from Mr. Weasley on Christmas morning. Interesting. Tell me, what did your beau do to send you fleeing into the night without a cloak?" Snape asked her, taking in her sweater, jeans and trainers.

Hermione sighed.

"He . . . he proposed," Hermione replied.

Snape's lip quirked.

"So when are the happy nuptials?" he said with a small sneer.

"I . . . I didn't accept," Hermione responded.

"Ah, you told him 'no' then," Snape pressed, knowing that probably wasn't the case given the way she had arrived at Hogwarts.

"Not exactly. I didn't give him an answer at all. I just . . . just left," she replied.

Snape chuckled nastily.

"Thus ruining the perfect romantic gesture, a proposal on Christmas Day," he purred. "No doubt the entire family was present when he popped the question."

Hermione nodded, sighing again.

"Yes, they were. And I felt as if I were trapped. I couldn't breathe. It was like they were all pressing in on me and I couldn't move. It was awful. I felt I would die if I didn't get out of there. It was . . . reactionary," she said.

"Reactionary. Yes. Like fleeing when a Killing curse whizzes by your ear," Snape said, sitting down on the far end of the couch, looking at the witch thoughtfully. "Your sense of self-preservation kicked in. I imagine Mr. Weasley is beside himself with worry as to what's happened to you. Maybe . . . you'd better return."

Snape's eyes glinted as he made this suggestion.

"NO!" Hermione hissed, surprising herself with her own vehemence.

That vehemence was precisely what Snape wanted to hear. It seemed Hermione felt the wall against her back now. She had escaped the self-made cul-de-sac she'd made of her life, barely managing to squeeze past the bottleneck before she was sealed in completely. Ron's proposal seemed to adequately wake her up. This was an excellent development. Not to mention her being in his rooms in the middle of the night. Perhaps if he played his potions right . . .

"Severus, could I please have a drink?" she asked him suddenly.

Snape snapped out of his little reverie and blinked at Hermione.

"Going to drown your sorrows in alcohol, Hermione?" he responded as he rose, not waiting for an answer and walked to his liquor cabinet, pouring her a stiff Firewhiskey.

"No. I just want to steady my nerves," she said as she watched him. The back of the wizard's legs were rather tight and sinewy, despite his thinness. Still, he should at least have the decency to put on a robe in front of her.

Snape returned with the Firewhiskey and passed it to her, watching as she downed half of it in one gulp, making a face and rasping a little.

He sat down on the end of the sofa again and waited a bit before he asked her what her plans for the night was.

"Um . . . well, I was hoping you'd let me stay here. If I go to my rooms or my parents' house, or even to the Three Broomsticks, I'm sure Ron will track me down," Hermione said.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, his face full of displeasure.

"Stay here? For the night? You've already infringed quite enough for someone who I owe absolutely nothing," he said to her coldly.

Hermione frowned at him.

"You know, for someone who wants me to travel around the world with him, you don't make much of an effort to make me happy," she snapped at him.

"I see you too are guilty of the misguided belief that someone else can make you happy. Only you can make yourself happy. I'm not here for that. Yes, I do want you to come with me, Hermione. And if you do, your happiness will be assured," he replied. "But that is completely up to you. I'm not going to pet and coddle you . . ."

Here the wizard hesitated, then his lip curled slightly.

" . . . at least not because of any hope of you taking advantage of my offer," he purred at her. "If I do that, it will be for other reasons."

Hermione looked at him, then suddenly downed the rest of her Firewhiskey, coughing a bit this time.

"I . . . I don't need you to pet and coddle me," she rasped at him, the memory of his kisses and her reaction to them coming back in screaming clarity.

A slow flush crept up from the neck of Hermione's wool sweater and suffused her face as she said this.

Snape studied her.

"Reactionary," he purred softly.

"What? What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, feeling the warmth of the Firewhiskey flowing through her, giving her a bit of a boost.

"I'm talking about your coloring at my statement. Tell me, Hermione, why have you turned as red as a salamander?" he asked her. "It is obviously a reaction. But to what? The idea of me petting and coddling you? Although, 'coddling' wouldn't quite cover what it is I would do to you."

"I didn't come here for this," Hermione snapped at him.

"Then why the hell did you come here?" Snape snarled at her, his eyes flashing. "For me to offer you solace? To be your . . . champion and protect you from the world you've created around yourself? You could have gone any place other than here, witch. You've disappeared before without darkening my dungeons. As I said before, you are a coward and now you want me to assist you in your cowardice. To 'hide you out.' Eventually, you are going to have to face the fact that you don't want the life that is trying to suffocate you. You have to stop 'reacting' and do something proactive to save yourself! Others can't do for you what needs to be done. I certainly can't, but I can show you another way . . . a better way. You only have to accept it."

Hermione was about to respond when a loud bell clanged. Snape's eyes narrowed and he walked over to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a small mirror. He looked into it and arched an eyebrow, then walked back over to Hermione and handed her the mirror. She looked into it and paled.

"Your beau is here," the wizard purred.

Sure enough, Ron had entered the castle and was heading for her rooms. He had his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting something. Hermione couldn't hear him but she was sure it was her name.

"Since I am the only staff member on the premises, I have to protect the castle from unauthorized visitors," Snape said. "That mirror lets me know if non-staff members enter the premises. My job . . . is to find out why they are here and remove them if necessary. In this case, I already know why Mr. Weasley is here . . ."

Hermione looked up at Snape. Her eyes really were full of fear. She clearly didn't want to face Ron. She looked into the mirror again and Ron was standing outside of her rooms, pounding on the door with his fist and attempting to crack the ward with his wand.

"No doubt he will stand out there all night, thinking you aren't answering," Snape said to her. "I can't allow that. Either you go to him . . . or I will."

Hermione looked up at the Professor.

"Severus, please. I don't want to see him . . . I can't. I can't face him right now. I can't tell him I don't want to marry him," she said to the wizard, hoping he would find some sense of empathy inside his cold heart.

Snape sneered down at her, shaking his head.

"So you want me to go out there and lie for you?" he asked her.

Hermione hung her head.

"Yes," she breathed, "Please."

Snape stood there for several minutes, then strode into his rooms. After a minute or two he returned, dressed in his robes and boots.

"Oh thank you, Severus," Hermione breathed up at him.

"Don't . . . thank me yet, witch. I am a Slytherin and I don't do 'favors.' There has to be something reciprocal in it for me, something worth me lying for you . . . something of personal benefit. By making Mr. Weasley leave the premises, I am giving you a reprieve of sorts. What will you give me?" he asked her, his sallow face curtained by his greasy hair.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Either an answer to my offer . . . or you. One or the other," the wizard replied silkily.

Hermione stared up at him, her face contorting.

"Me? Have you no sense of decency?" she hissed at him.

Snape looked amused.

"Decency? It is you who wants me to go out into a cold drafty castle and lie to a man who obviously loves you. Who wants you to be his wife. What you are proposing is just as indecent as my request. Now, what will it be?" he asked her.

Hermione's shoulders slumped.

"I don't know," she said softly.

"That's no answer!" Snape snarled at her.

"I don't know. I need time to think!" Hermione said to him.

"There is no time! If you want me to rid you of your fiancée, then tell me what your decision is!" Snape demanded.

What he was doing to Hermione wasn't nice, but then again, neither was he and the witch knew it. So it worked out, at least as far as Snape was concerned. He'd get something he wanted out of this.

At last it would feel like Christmas.

"I'll tell you when you get back," Hermione said softly.

Suddenly magic swirled around them, Hermione looking absolutely horrified as she accidentally invoked a Wizarding Oath.

"Oh shit," she gasped as Snape gave her a perfectly sinister smile.

"You should know of all people, Hermione, that promises made under the influence of great emotions can invoke an oath," he purred at her. "I am satisfied and will return shortly to hear your answer. I am sure I will be pleased with whatever you have to tell me."

Snape then turned and exited the study, leaving Hermione on the couch, stunned.

"Oh gods," she breathed, "I've made a deal with the devil himself."

Snape was thinking the same thing as he strode up the dungeon corridor.

* * *

Hermione watched through the mirror as Ron suddenly stopped trying to break the ward and looked at something. She saw Snape billow up and address Ron. Ron began to gesticulate and point at Hermione's door. Snape listened then backed up and cast a spell on the door. It opened. 

Hermione scowled. Snape could enter her rooms that easily? It was . . . disturbing. But maybe he had castle-wide authorization for the holidays since everyone, including Filch were gone. Hermione watched as Ron walked inside. Snape remained in the corridor but Hermione could see Ron moving through her rooms, calling for her before he started opening closets and looking under her bed.

He knew she was purposely hiding from him. It was awful.

After about five minutes, a disheartened looking Ron exited her rooms, shaking his head. Snape pulled the door closed and warded it back, then he and Ron walked to the Main Hall, Ron's shoulders slumping. Snape watched as he exited the castle, then the mirror changed back to a regular reflection. It focused only on the intruder inside the castle.

Snape was on his way back and Hermione hadn't decided what she would tell him. She was bound to her oath and had to give him an answer. She wasn't ready to tell him she would travel around the world with him. She needed more time to make such a life-changing decision.

Unfortunately, time was one thing she didn't have.

Snape expected an answer tonight.

* * *

A/N: BAD Snapey! Ooh, he's so manipulative. Poor Hermione but lucky us. Lol. Thanks for reading and I hope everyone had a nice Christmas. 


	9. Accepted

**Chapter 9 Accepted**

As Snape walked back towards the dungeons, he thought about his method of trapping Hermione into this situation, by taking advantage of her fear. It could be considered dastardly, and it was . . . but Snape learned from the Master Manipulator.

And he was no Slytherin.

* * *

_Once again Snape was on a hilltop. It was dark outside and wind whipped around him. He was desperately waiting for someone . . . someone who would help him._

_Then a blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air. Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand flew out of his hand._

"_Don't kill me!"_

"_That was not my intention."_

_Any sound of Dumbledore Apparating had been drowned by the sound of the wind in the branches. He stood before Snape with his robes whipping around him, and his face was illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand._

"_Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"_

"_No—no message—I'm here on my own account!"_

_Snape was wringing his hands. He looked a little mad, with his straggling black hair flying around him._

"_I—I come with a warning—no, a request—please—"_

_Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though leaves and branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Snape faced each other._

"_What request could a Death Eater make of me?"_

"_The—the prophecy. . . the prediction. . . Trelawney. . . "_

"_Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"_

"_Everything—everything I heard!" said Snape. "That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means Lily Evans!"_

"_The prophecy did not refer to a woman," said Dumbledore. "It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—"_

"_You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down—kill them all—"_

"_If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"_

"_I have—I have asked him—"_

"_You disgust me," said Dumbledore, contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"_

_Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore._

"_Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her—them—safe. Please."_

"_And what will you give me in return, Severus?"_

"_In—in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore _

_After a long moment he replied, "Anything."_

* * *

Snape frowned slightly at the memory. Albus Dumbledore had also given him a choice of sorts. The wizard wasn't as benign as everyone thought and the truth had come out about him thanks to Rita Skeeter. Dumbledore would not have agreed to protect Lily Potter if Snape had not promised to do anything he asked.

Then, Dumbledore didn't save her.

He didn't save any of them.

Harry could have died as well if not for the magic of his mother's love. Then Dumbledore kept him alive all those years at Snape's expense, just to sacrifice him in the end.

At least Snape would give Hermione a new life, if she accepted his offer and if not, he would at least give her a new experience a sight better than what she was used to.

It was more than Dumbledore had done for him.

What made Snape the angriest is that Dumbledore probably knew that Lily's love would protect her son and make him a Horcrux, a weapon he could use against Voldemort. If the old wizard didn't know for sure, he had at least hoped.

Gryffindor house. The house of the Honest and Brave. Pahh!

Snape snarled to himself as he entered his office, then his study to find Hermione on the sofa, white-faced and looking as if she wanted to flee. He strode up to her and put out his hand. She blinked at him.

"My mirror," he said coldly.

Hermione handed Snape the mirror and watched as he walked over to his desk and put it away. Then he walked back to the sofa and stood over her, his face devoid of expression.

"I suppose you watched through the mirror," he said to the witch, who nodded.

"Mr. Weasley is gone. It is time for your answer," Snape purred.

Hermione had been desperately thinking, trying to come up with a way out of this without breaking her oath. She had something although she didn't know if it would work.

"Severus, you told me once that you would take an oath promising not to approach . . ." she began.

"Are you mad, witch? I promised to take an oath, but you HAVE taken one and that supersedes my promise. Stop trying to wiggle your way out of this. Have some courage! Some conviction, damn it! Some sense of honor!" he snarled at her.

"Honor? You can talk about honor, you . . . you Slytherin?" Hermione yelled at him, then let out a shriek as Snape snatched her off the sofa by one arm and shook her, his face contorted, his eyes wild.

"Gryffindor House is the most misrepresented House at Hogwarts!" he screamed at her, spittle flying. "Noble, brave, loyal! Oh yes. That is the house that produced Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed his friends, murdered innocent people and let Sirius Black take the blame. although he was a bully and a coward also. And let us not forget Percy Weasley, who turned his back on all of you to serve a corrupted Ministry! None of them had any honor!"

Hermione snatched her arm away, her brown eyes full of fire as she faced the snarling wizard.

"It was the choices they made that led them wrong. They had the qualities. They all made bad choices, that's all! And Percy, it was courageous for him to return and fight by our side at the end! That's what mattered! That's what made him a Gryffindor! Peter's personal choices are what ruined him, and even he died rather than kill Harry at the end. He sacrificed himself, choked to death by the evil hand that Voldemort gave him because he hesitated! He didn't want to kill Harry. And Sirius was just young and stupid when he targeted you. He had to mature. That didn't make him unworthy, just human! So don't attack my House!" she screamed back at him, stamping her foot. "If you have an issue, take it up with me!"

Snape calmed, looking at the angry witch, a small smirk on his face.

"There it is," he said softly, looking down at her. "There is the fire that was slowly going out. Hermione Granger, you are magnificent when you are standing up for what you believe. When you are adamant, sure and ready to battle. This is the witch that I want to resurrect. This is the warrior I want by my side when I am facing dangerous odds. This is the woman you are meant to be."

Hermione blinked up at him, taken aback for a moment. She was panting and her heart was pounding. She hadn't screamed at anyone in ages, though there were many occasions she had wanted to and would have been justified in doing. It felt damn good not to back down.

"Sit down," Snape said quietly.

Hermione sat down on the sofa, trying to recover. But she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her. Snape sat down beside her, and gently moved her bushy hair out of her face so he could clearly see it.

"Now that you have tried unsuccessfully to manipulate your way out of your Oath to me, what is my answer," he said silkily, "will you come with me on my journey, or will you give yourself to me tonight?"

Hermione looked at him.

"For how long, Severus? Will I be locking myself into servitude if I agree to go with you now?" she asked him softly.

Snape shook his head.

"Help me find and study one potion. If after that, you decide the life is not for you, I will let you go and recoup nothing of my expenditures," he said to her softly.

Hermione studied the wizard's face. He didn't look quite so harsh now.

"And if I decide to . . . to . . ." she said, unable to finish her sentence.

"Then, I will do my best to undo years of your being unappreciated, witch and show you what it means to be with someone to whom your responses and pleasure matters. You owe yourself that much, Hermione Granger. Afterwards, you will be free to go and consider what lies before you with a much more enlightened . . . attitude."

And probably a very gap-legged walk. But Snape wasn't about to tell her that.

Hermione stared at the wizard. His oily hair curtaining his face, the hooked nose, the cruel mouth. He was so pale, so . . . so unlike Ron. But he was also very thin. More than likely the rest of him was thin too, including his cock. And maybe he'd be quick since he said it had been some time since he'd been with a woman. She noticed a look of displeasure wash across Snape's features. What was wrong with him?

What was wrong was that Snape was in her mind. He had slipped in subtly. He was good at that. So, she was hoping he was thin all over eh? Not to mention might have a hair trigger. Well, he'd show her if she accepted him. There was nothing thin and quick about him in this situation.

"Your answer," he snapped impatiently.

Hermione considered him. He could kiss, that was for certain . . . and he had evoked real desire in her that night. He had evoked something that was missing when she was with Ron. Ron. Poor Ron.

"Think of yourself," Snape hissed at her, "Think of what is waiting for you when you leave me, Hermione. Now is your opportunity to learn something new, something you can use as a gauge against what you have now. What will it be, witch?" Snape said, fervently hoping she would agree to intimacy with him.

Her little 'thin' thought really rankled the wizard.

"Choose!" Snape demanded now.

Hermione felt her throat beginning to tighten a bit. The Oath was urging her to give an answer now in response to Snape's impatience. It was his right to get an answer, and obviously the Oath agreed.

Hermione blinked and stood up.

"I still need to consider traveling around the world with you," she said softly, Snape's eyes beginning to glint.

Hermione drew in a deep breath.

"So I think we should go to your bedroom," she said softly, her heart beginning to pound again.

* * *

A/N: Yes! Good choice Hermione…but … that little 'thin' thought is probably going to cost you. Lol. The dialogue between Snape and Dumbledore was taken directly from "Deathly Hallows" with a few slight alterations in perspective and is not my own. Thanks for reading. 


	10. Warming Up

**Chapter 10 Warming Up (Short Chapter)**

"Bedroom?" Snape said to her, a curl to his lips now. "What do you mean bedroom?"

The wizard let his eyes slowly sweep around the study before settling back on Hermione.

"We have a sofa, armchairs, a desk, the walls . . . my study is a virtual playground for sexual exploration," he purred at her. "Why bother with a bed?"

Hermione colored.

"I've always done it in a bed," she replied, blinking at the wizard.

"That's part of your problem," Snape said. "No spontaneity. Dull, dull, dull. Well, I'll take care of that, witch."

Snape leaned toward her and Hermione popped off the sofa as if someone stuck her in the bum with a pin.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Prepare myself . . . you know, contraception," she said to the wizard nervously.

Snape scowled.

"All that takes is a wand tip pressed below your navel and an incantation. You don't need to go to the bathroom for that," he said to her, frowning.

"I have to use the bathroom as well," Hermione replied, "unless you are into golden showers."

"Not on the receiving end," Snape responded, then growled, "Go ahead, but hurry up. In my bedroom."

Snape watched as Hermione skittered away into his room, then started to remove his boots and socks.

* * *

"I must be crazy," Hermione thought to herself as she sat on the loo. "I can't believe I agreed to let him shag me. Gods, I hope I'm right about him. Maybe it will only take two or three minutes. Ron lasts about ten, and he has more sex than Snape does. Maybe this will be all right."

Hermione wiped, flushed and then drew out her wand and cast a contraceptive spell on herself. Then she washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror for a minute. Then came a pounding on the door.

"Hurry up, witch!" Snape snarled from the other side.

"I'm coming," Hermione called back.

"Not yet, witch," Snape growled, exiting the bedroom.

Hermione slowly opened the bathroom door and peeked out. Snape wasn't in the bedroom. Taking another deep breath, she exited the bedroom to find the lights in the study lowered so it was rather subdued. There was also soft music playing and Snape had created a small table in front of the sofa. On it sat a large decanter of wine and two nice glasses. The wizard was sitting on the sofa, looking at her. He was still in his robes but wearing slippers.

Snape smirked slightly as Hermione looked surprised.

"Wine?" she asked, sitting down on the sofa, watching as Snape poured a glass for her then himself.

"Of course wine," he replied, "Surely you didn't think I planned to jump on top of you the moment you left my bedroom? Some wizards actually have more finesse than that, Hermione. Wine is a pleasant way to start an evening, or in our case, a morning. I have an appreciation for the finer things."

Hermione looked around the sparse study then at Snape, pursing her lips at its austerity.

"Obviously," she said sarcastically. But she was starting to relax a little.

If Snape caught her sarcasm, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he lifted his glass and swirled the wine about slightly, then sniffed it delicately. He took a small sip, appearing to savor it. He looked quite satisfied.

Hermione picked up her glass, and sniffed the bouquet. It smelled pleasant enough. She took a sip, Snape watching her reaction. Hermione smiled.

It was delicious.

"What kind of wine is this?" she asked him. "It's very good."

Snape took another appreciative sip and nodded.

"Quite good," he agreed, "It is called Duhart Milon. A Rothschild wine. High in cabernet with a good dark fruit nose, fruity on the palate and quite well-balanced. A very good drinking wine. I thought you might enjoy it."

And Hermione did. She and Snape began to talk about things that had nothing to do with her personal life, or his plans. Instead, they discussed Spell Making. Hermione knew Snape had created several spells while in school without any formal training. He told her he had always been sensitive to magic and part of his skill in dueling was because he could often "feel" when magic was being gathered to expel. In other words he was sensitive to the "intent' of others.

"That's fascinating," Hermione said, "How did you discover it?"

"I felt Lily Potter's power when I first saw her and was drawn to her. But I didn't know what it was then. It was only after being targeted by James Potter and his cronies that I realized I could feel magic. Eventually I could tell if it the magic was dark or light, and even could tell the subtle differences. With practice, I was able to fine tune my own intent and create incantations that would expel it," Snape told her.

Hermione was even more fascinated. Most spell makers had to do complicated calculations using lei lines and Arithmancy to even sketch out a possible spell. To be able to do it by feel was extraordinary. That ability would come in handy when they were hunting for potions that might be protected by magic.

Er . . . if they were hunting for potions. If.

"You really are an amazing man, Severus," Hermione breathed.

She was totally relaxed now, feeling warm and comfortable as well as stimulated by Snape's conversation. It had been so long since she had an intelligent discussion with anyone, it was quite intoxicating itself.

"You think so, witch?" Snape purred at her, noting her flush. "Even more so than Mr. Weasley?"

"Definitely," Hermione replied, then said, "but Ron is nice."

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"Whereas I am not," he said, his mouth quirking.

"No. Not really," Hermione agreed as she finished her third glass of wine.

Snape smirked at her, and took her glass out of her hand. Then he stood up and looked down at her.

Hermione immediately stiffened.

"Now?" she asked him.

Snape scowled at her.

"Mr. Weasley has most certainly had a negative effect on you, Hermione," he said, catching her hand and drawing her up. "I thought we might take a few turns around the study."

He drew Hermione into him gently and clasped her hand, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"You mean dance?" she asked him.

"No, I mean fly," he snapped as they began to move in a waltz to the softly playing music.

The Potions master was a wonderful dancer, his face taking on a softer quality as they moved around the study. It appeared he enjoyed dancing. Hermione would have never expected it.

"You seem to be surprised I dance," Snape said to the witch.

"I am. I don't ever remember you dancing at any of the balls," Hermione said to the wizard.

"Be that as it may, I do dance. There is only one thing more compelling than dancing with a lovely woman," he breathed down at her, stopping and releasing her hand and letting both arms encircle her waist. His dark eyes were locked to Hermione's gaze.

"And what is that?" Hermione asked him, feeling as if it were getting hard to breathe as his lean, but hard body rested against her curves.

"Taking her," he purred, lowering his head and capturing Hermione's mouth.

* * *

A/N: I know. I know. I'm writing in spurts. BUT . . . I'm writing. Thanks for reading. 


	11. Closer Still

**Chapter 11 Closer Still**

Snape captured Hermione's lower lip and suckled it for a moment, then the upper lip before covering her mouth with his own, teasing a response from her.

Hermione, plied by the wine, the conversation, the dancing and Snape's seductive words couldn't help giving herself over to his kiss, sweetness flowing over her as that cruel mouth lost its cruelness, replaced by something irresistible.

Hermione began to tremble against the dark wizard, who tightened his hold on her quivering body and deepened the kiss, his tongue probing gently, sliding around her own, not demanding, but seeking. He tasted like wine and was just as intoxicating. Hermione let out a little noise and Snape pulled back from her mouth.

"You're trembling like a virgin," he said softly, "put your arms around me. Yes. Just like that, Hermione."

Snape returned to kissing Hermione, who had wrapped her arms lightly around the wizard's waist. He felt wrong under his robes, too lean, although his body was harder than Ron's, as if every muscle was compacted, wrapped too tightly around his slender frame. But the sense of physical wrongness was superseded by the rightness of his kiss and his embrace, which was firm but not crushing.

He was so different from Ron. He made her . . . made her want his kisses. But there was something a bit odd about how he was standing. At first they had been in full contact, but now he held his hips away from her. It was a little maddening and she attempted to move closer, but he shifted away, still kissing her. Hermione's arms tightened as she openly tried to increase contact. Snape pulled back from her mouth, his black eyes glinting, and one corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Suddenly the wizard swept a startled Hermione up into his arms easily and carried her back to the couch, dropping her on it rather roughly.

"Hey!" Hermione said to him indignantly.

Snape smirked slightly.

"Is for . . . horses," he purred, "or some Muggle creature."

Then his eyes became rather predatory as he suddenly dropped to the couch on top of Hermione, lying on top of her but low enough that his hips were not in contact with hers. He was heavier than she thought he'd be, but not as heavy as Ron.

"What are you doing?" she gasped up at him. His black hair swung around his face, framing her face as well.

"I believe we've already established that, witch," he said softly. "You."

He began to kiss Hermione again, his lips hungrier this time, possessive and slightly demanding. But he didn't bruise her lips or force her mouth as Ron did. He waited for her to respond, to open to him, to offer freely what he was seeking. Once again, Hermione felt sweetness flowing over her body, a small achy sweetness that spread from her middle. She remembered this feeling. She used to get it for Ron in the early days. But that seemed so long ago. She began to tremble again and Snape's lips slid from her mouth to her throat, one pale hand gently moving her hair aside to access her flesh, suckling and kissing it gently, Hermione letting out sighs of pleasure as his mouth moved over her neck and jaw line.

Snape let out a small sound of his own and stopped kissing Hermione, looking down at her, her brown eyes closed and her pursing lips asking for more contact. She looked delectable.

"Hermione, do you like oral sex?" Snape asked her silkily.

Hermione's eyes flew open and she looked slightly disappointed. Snape wanted her to blow him. She thought he was different . . . but he wasn't. Wizards all wanted one thing.

Snape noticed the change in the witch underneath him. She was still fully clothed.

"Well, I've done it before . . ." she said softly, "I suppose I could . . ."

Snape shook his head.

"No. Not me. I mean you. Do you like having a wizard please you with his mouth?" he asked her, licking his lips slightly.

Hermione's eyes rounded.

"You do that?" she asked, sounding so amazed that Snape's brow furrowed for a moment.

"I can," he replied, "and will with gusto if you allow it."

Hermione swallowed.

"Ron doesn't like to do that. He enjoys having it done but he won't . . ." she began then stopped because the look on Snape's face was terrible.

When he spoke it was through gritted teeth.

"You mean to tell me that he is not . . . reciprocal? That you perform for his pleasure but he doesn't for yours?" Snape hissed, staring down at Hermione, his eyes hard.

"I rarely do it," she said, "not that often at all really."

Snape shook his head, then slid off of Hermione, standing up and motioning for her to join him.

"Lift your arms, witch," he said, still looking angry as he caught hold of the bottom of her sweater. "It's time to get down to business."

Shaking slightly, Hermione raised her arms and Snape neatly pulled her sweater over her head. She didn't show any hesitation.

Snape's eyes rested on her full breasts cupped in a plain white cotton bra. His mouth twitched as he met her eyes.

"You're lovely," he said to Hermione, his voice a bit raw as he reached around her back, Hermione closing her eyes as she felt him release the catch. She felt him catch hold of the straps and gently draw them down her arms and away.

She stood there, waiting for the inevitable grope, her eyes closed.

Nothing happened. Slowly she opened her eyes to find Snape staring at her face, not her breasts. He shook his head slowly.

"You tense up so easily, Hermione. It's as if you are waiting for the worst to happen. Sex shouldn't be that way," he said to her, smoothing her cheek. His hand was large, warm and slightly calloused. His touch felt good.

"Weasley is an idiot!" Snape suddenly snarled, making Hermione jump. "He was never a bright student. Never one to attempt to learn a thing on his own. I hate how you respond to me because of his ineptitude. Did he show you no consideration at all? I know you were waiting for me to fondle you, to grope you, to man-handle your breasts, Hermione. Your brow was furrowed, your lower lip caught between your teeth, grimacing as you waited to be mauled. Gods, I could blast Weasley into yesterday!"

Hermione stared at the furious wizard who was looking at her as if he wanted to hex her too.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm trying to do what you want," she said in a small voice.

If Hermione thought this was going to help, she was sadly mistaken. Snape's face contorted even worse.

"It's not your fault!" he thundered at her. "It's not your fault that Weasley with his selfish . . . idiotic . . . dunderheaded . . . asinine . . .

Shaking with anger, Snape made a supreme effort to get himself under control. Hermione, bare-breasted and frightened, stared at him with wide eyes. The professor was certainly volatile.

Snape finally managed to calm himself. He looked at Hermione, then said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Hermione could have fallen over. Severus Snape apologizing? The foundations of Hogwarts were about to crumble and the entire castle crash down around them.

Snape knelt and pulled off Hermione's trainers and socks, then stood up and began to gently work at the fastening of her jeans as he continued to speak to her.

"I am angry at the way you've been mistreated. I realize it was not purposely done by your . . . lover," he said with obvious disdain at having to address Ron by this title when it was clear he was no lover, but a selfish prat. He pulled down the zipper to Hermione's jeans, parting them. "You were both young when you became involved . . . young and without experience."

The wizard knelt again, slowly drawing Hermione's jeans down over her hips and thighs. She rested her hand on one of his shoulders and stepped out of them, standing before the wizard in only her white cotton knickers. Snape could see the dark patch of hair at the apex of her thighs and his eyes glittered for a moment, then slowly rose, taking in her curves, her large breasts, smooth shoulders and riot of brown hair falling over her shoulders. Hermione didn't wear make-up and as far as Snape was concerned, she didn't need to wear it.

Hermione fought the urge to cover herself with her hands as the wizard looked at her, his large nostrils pulsating slightly. Hermione had the impression he was actually scenting her as if he were some male animal in search of a willing mate.

"Weasley doesn't know what he has in you. He doesn't know what to do with you. And I don't mean just sexually, Hermione. I mean, emotionally and mentally as well. He's not suitable for a witch of your caliber, of your potential. Sometimes, Hermione, a wizard being sweet and kind and funny is just not enough," Snape said softly. "I am none of those things, witch, but I know what to do with you."

Snape gently pulled Hermione against him, his pale hands smoothing over her back, fingers tapping at her spine, caressing the witch almost reverently as his mouth met hers again. This time he allowed Hermione to press against him fully. The moment she did, she tensed and jerked her head back, staring up at him.

"What . . . what is that?" she gasped, already knowing the answer.

"Some parts of me are thinner than others," he replied, pressing his huge erection into Hermione a bit harder.

"Oh my gods," she breathed, buckling against him as if she were going to faint.

"I'm no Ronald Weasley in any way, shape or form," the wizard crooned, catching her and kissing her deeply before helping the dazed witch to the couch. He lay Hermione down on her back, carefully fanning out her hair. He straightened and looked down on the witch, drinking in her body as it lay stretched out before him like a smorgasbord ready to be devoured. He planned to taste every part of her.

"And believe me, Hermione Granger, I am not going to make the same mistakes with you that he has," he breathed, starting on his robes fasteners.

* * *

A/N: I know. Another short chapter. But it's on now. Lemons are definitely in the next chapter. I'm just feeling a bit overtired and need to think a bit how to approach this. But I'm still having fun with it. Thanks for reading. 


	12. Preliminaries

**Chapter 12 Preliminaries**

Snape paused to dim the torches a bit more. Hermione frowned slightly.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him. "I can hardly see you."

Snape worked on his buttons, but didn't answer her.

"I want to know why you lowered the lights, Severus," she said to him again, only barely able to make out his white skin in contrast to his opening robes.

"I did it to spare you," he said in a low voice. "I am badly scarred. I am no perfect specimen like your Mr. Weasley. My body has been whipped and torn over the years."

He stopped unbuttoning his robes when he spoke and was now looking at her, his eyes narrowed.

"I want to see you," Hermione said to the wizard. "Scars and all. I have a right to see you, don't I? Considering what we are about to do."

Snape's jaw tightened, a tick forming in his cheek. He used his wand to raise the torches a bit more so Hermione could see him, then he finished opening his robes silently, letting them fall.

Hermione's eyes dropped to his loins and widened. He was wearing a rather worn pair of cotton briefs. Well, that answered the brief or boxer question. Ron always claimed Snape didn't wear anything under his robes when they attended Hogwarts. Little did he suspect Hermione would find out first-hand.

But it wasn't the briefs that made Hermione stare at the wizard's loins, it was the huge outline of his cock straining against the fabric, the length of it extending beyond his hip. Hermione swallowed and allowed her eyes to look at the rest of him. Yes, he was thin, his limbs corded with sharp joints. A few scars streaked his belly and chest, which was also rather thin, but his musculature was clearly defined.

"You don't have that many scars," she said softly.

Instead of replying, Snape turned around and Hermione stifled a gasp at the numerous raised welts on his back. There were scars on top of scars, some very wide as if he had been sliced open rather than whipped.

"Oh Severus," Hermione said in a low voice as he turned back around, his mouth in a tight line.

"For the glory of the Order," he said bitterly, his face slightly shadowed by his hair as he looked down at her. "I will carry the marks of my dual service . . ."

Here Snape extended his left arm, his Dark Mark clearly visible against his pale skin.

". . .until the day I die."

There was something underlying the dark wizard's pronouncement that saddened Hermione. It wasn't self-pity, it was something . . . something deeper. Something dark that she knew would never, ever leave him. No it wasn't what he said. Hermione was face to face with horror his life had been. Out of everyone that dealt with Voldemort, it was Snape who had suffered the most. Those who were blatant enemies met death quickly, while he suffered torture. How often had the wizard longed for death? How did he ever keep going, keep spying?

"You're nowhere near death tonight, Severus," Hermione said to him. "And you no longer serve anyone but yourself. That part of your life is past. Dead."

"It will never be 'dead' Hermione. I live with the ghosts every day of my life," he growled. "Here, in this place, they are all resurrected. They are in the walls of the castle, in the tiles, in the corridors. Beasts of memory, wraiths of despair . . . they are always here," the wizard said, his voice hollow.

"You're going to leave them behind, Severus, when you leave Hogwarts and start a new life," Hermione said to him. "One full of challenge and excitement. The ghosts will fade. I know they will."

Snape blinked down at her, an odd expression on his pale face.

"I don't want to leave everything behind," he breathed, climbing on to the couch and mounting the witch's body.

Only Hermione's knickers and Snape's briefs separated their flesh. Hermione gasped as she felt his erection pressing against her. He was much larger than Ron. No wonder the Potions master was so slender. All the excess body mass seemed to have gathered in his cock.

Snape's dark hair fell around his face as he looked down at Hermione, his eyes glinting.

"I would have never expected such a Christmas gift," he said to the witch, "Are you ready for your Yuleride?"

Slightly disoriented, Hermione stared up at him blankly.

"Yuleride?" she repeated in a whisper.

Snape smirked.

"Usually at this time of year couples take a ride through the countryside in a sleigh drawn by horses, but in this case Hermione, you are the landscape I will be exploring . . . and as far as being horse-drawn . . ."

Snape pressed his thickness against Hermione meaningfully. Hermione let out a little groan as he moved against her.

" . . . I'll see what I can do," he crooned, capturing her mouth again.

If Snape's kisses had affected her before when they were fully dressed, it was nothing compared to feeling him flesh to flesh. Snape didn't just kiss with his lips, his entire body was involved, the wizard moving against her sensuously, using his body to stimulate her, his hardness against her softness. He didn't just possess her mouth, he devoured it, and Hermione could feel his need for her as clearly as if he were speaking it. And then he began to caress her with those marvelous, meticulous hands of his, first starting with her sides, her hips, her thighs . . . his fingers slightly clutching, smoothing, tapping her skin, learning her contours. When he let his fingers trace the curve of her breast, Hermione gasped into his mouth, the contact was so electric. She wanted him to touch her, to feel his warm, roughened hands around her fullness. Hermione arched instinctively, her knickers becoming moist and damp, the scent of her arousal slowly rising.

Snape began to move lower, suckling, nibbling and licking the witch's skin, moving over her collarbone and shoulders, entwining one of her hands in his as he slipped lower, his warm, soft, hungry mouth sliding over the mound of her breast, then capturing her nipple, sucking gently, sending thrills through her body, her peaks taut and tight under his swirling tongue.

"Dear gods," Hermione moaned as he moved to her other breast, laving it, releasing her hand and gently pushing both together, suckling both nipples at once, nearly sending Hermione into complete meltdown. Ron had never taken this much time with her body.

Snape loved her responses. They were honest, true and so compelling. Hermione's soft moans fell on his ears and all he could think of was eliciting the next passionate sigh, the next helpless groan of pleasure. Her skin was soft and supple beneath his hands. It had been so long since he'd touched a woman. And even longer since he'd tasted one.

Slowly, teasingly, Snape worked his way down Hermione's body, lingering over her soft belly, tonguing her navel, his hands, mouth and lips staying in contact, keeping her primed and excited, moving beneath him, totally lost to his possession.

Snape slowly slipped his hands under the elastic of Hermione's knickers, rising to his knees.

"Lift your hips," the wizard rasped at the undulating witch, his eyes locked to her thighs.

Through her haze of desire, Hermione helplessly obeyed him, feeling the wizard sliding the fabric down her legs, over her calves and ankles, then removing them. Snape gazed down at her soft, downy brown bush, the fine hair slightly curled, the scent of her juices making his mouth water. He swallowed and licked his lips. He had no intentions on making Hermione reciprocate. If they became lovers, there would be time for that. Tonight, it was her awakening that mattered.

Snape gently pushed Hermione's thighs apart wider, then lightly stroked her labia with his fingertips, testing the proverbial waters. Hermione buckled at the intimate contact, looking down at the wizard. He was on his knees, his head leaning forward slightly, his hair almost covering his features, one hand between her legs, petting her. Then he looked up, his eyes hungry as they met hers. Hermione watched as he withdrew his hand and deliberately brought it to his mouth, fingertips glistening. She felt she couldn't breathe as he inserted his fingers into his mouth, a look of pure bliss on his face as he tasted her for the first time.

"Mr. Weasley hasn't developed a man's palate," he breathed at her. "You're as sweet as nectar. Let me taste your flower."

Snape leaned forward and slid his lean body back, bringing his face close to Hermione's core, breathing deeply before parting her with two fingers. Her inner flesh was moist and pink, the clitoris rigid and swollen from arousal.

"Beautiful," he hissed, lowering his mouth to her pussy and running his tongue around her clit.

"Oh . . . oh shit!" Hermione gasped as she felt his tongue caress her, thrusting her pelvis forward and grabbing at his hair. She caught a hank of it and pulled hard as he began to bathe her hungrily, collecting her juices and suckling her clit. It was painful and Snape pulled away from her core.

"I see I am going to have to restrain you," he hissed, wrestling her hand from his hair, then clasping her wrists together and holding them tightly with one hand as he returned to his destination, Hermione buckling and crying out as he attacked her again, his tongue probing, licking, swirling before he pressed his entire mouth to her entrance and sucked hard, Hermione squealing as he thrust his tongue inside her.

"It's too much!" she cried out.

But the wizard wasn't listening. He was drinking her down, gorging himself on her lubrication, small groans of pleasure issuing from him as Hermione's thighs clamped around his head, the witch arching as the pressure inside her grew.

Snape lapped at her unmercifully, determined to bring her to the place she was trying to fight, pulling her soft flesh with his lips, kissing her pussy as if it were another mouth.

"No! No!" Hermione cried out as the swelling of pleasure increased. It was so sweet, so all-compassing it was as if she were losing hold of herself, ballooning, growing, expanding to an impossible height . . .

"SEVERUS!" she screamed as she exploded in a mind-bending orgasm, her release gushing into the wizard's mouth, Snape feeling a strong sense of satisfaction as he swallowed her hot, musky juices down, his lips and chin glistening as Hermione keened and writhed, her sleeve clutching around his tongue as he slipped it inside her, seeking more of her lusciousness.

He held Hermione's wrists securely as he licked down every drop she exuded, cleaning her inner thighs as well until he could taste nothing but skin and Hermione's motions subsided, her breasts rising and falling as she calmed. Finally, he pulled away from her core, nostrils still flared and released her wrists, pulling himself upward until he lay on top of her again, staring down at her flushed face, half-lidded eyes and slack mouth.

"Delicious," he said to Hermione. "A man would have to be mad not to partake of your honey, witch."

Then he kissed her, sharing her flavor, his mouth welcomed against her lips.

"You're . . . amazing," Hermione breathed against his mouth. "I've never . . ."

"You will experience other things you haven't before . . . I promise you," Snape said softly, once again rising to his knees and this time removing his own briefs, lifting one leg then the other, sliding them down his pale limbs and dropping them to the floor. His cock stuck straight out in all its pale, swollen glory, the foreskin drawn back and a drop of murky liquid at the tip. Hermione stared at his erection hungrily. She was ready for him, horse-hung or not.

Severus Snape had shown her a side to sex she never knew before and he hadn't even shagged her yet. She held out her arms to him.

"Come here," Hermione breathed, and Snape's dark eyes lit up with delight at her command. He fell forward, resting on the cushion of her body, claiming her mouth once more.

Yes, Hermione Granger was a quick study.

He always knew she was.

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A/N: Mmmm. Thanks for reading. 


	13. Starting Out

**Chapter 13 Starting Out**

The first thing Snape noticed was Hermione was kissing him back now, and with some gusto, sucking on his thin lips as if she were trying to consume them. It was a pity Ronald Weasley kept her so starved when she had the capacity to be so passionate.

Ah well. Weasley's loss, Snape's gain. At least for tonight. He hesitated as Hermione ran her hand through his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp. Gods, that felt wonderful. He let out a little growl of pleasure and pulled back from her mouth.

"Aren't you afraid that your hand will be covered in oil?" he asked her, "I am known as 'the greasy git.'

Hermione looked at her hand. It was fine. She then studied his hair, drawing her hand through it again, slowly. It fell away from her fingers in soft, fine strands.

"It's not greasy. I don't know why it looks like that, but it isn't oily at all. Maybe it's what you use to wash it or because it's so fine," she said softly.

"Perhaps," Snape replied, slowly licking the dampness from her forehead and pursing his lips. He looked at her, a bit of amusement on his face.

"You didn't seem to mind being 'restrained' for your own good," he said to Hermione, who colored.

She had been shocked Snape held her wrists so he could have his way with her, but . . . secretly . . . she kind of liked him doing it.

"Have you been restrained before?" Snape asked her, his mouth turned down as he imagined Ron using her body.

"Only once," Hermione said, her eyes clouding. "I let Ron tie me up. We didn't get very far because Ron suddenly pulled out all these 'things' I didn't even know he had."

Snape's brow furrowed.

"Things? What kind of things?" the Potions master asked.

"Clamps. A big yellow dildo with bumps all over it. A . . . a butt plug. Some other things I'm too squicked to even describe," Hermione said with a shudder.

"Surprise!" Snape said mockingly, sounding as if he had sprung out from behind a piece of furniture on an unsuspecting someone's birthday.

Actually, Albus tried to give him a surprise birthday party once. Just once. You didn't surprise Severus Snape and expect him to simply clutch his heart. The singed and aching staff members quickly departed, most of them limping from the room-wide spell he cast.

"I told you it was a bad idea," Minerva scolded Albus as she tottered out of the staff room holding her back, the end of Snape's wand still dripping magic.

Snape thought it had been a wonderful birthday surprise, although he was glad he was spared the party. He had wanted to hex some of the staff members for years. Particularly Minerva, the sanctimonious old bird.

"So, I take it you aren't into 'toys," Snape purred at Hermione, thinking if Ron had prepared her more and let her know what he wanted to try, Hermione might have reacted better.

"I don't know if I am or not. I was so angry at Ronald, I didn't want to try anything. You just don't whip things like that out on a witch! Especially when she's tied up and helpless! If he even touched me with one of those things I would have hexed . . . "

Hermione was scowling now and Snape chuckled, stopping her from continuing her tirade by kissing her.

"Well, there are no toys here, only the real thing," he said softly, shifting his body against Hermione and sliding his length over her core.

Hermione sighed, pressing against the wizard's loins and letting her hands slide down his thin back, over his scars . . . Snape suddenly stiffening at the contact. Hermione felt him tense, but continued caressing him until he seemed to accept his scars didn't repulse her, and once again began moving against her, more urgently this time as he kissed and caressed her in preparation, letting the music of her voice wash over him, desire causing him to throb as he moved against her body. He needed her softness.

Now.

Hermione gasped as Snape lifted his upper body and ground himself against her, whirling his pelvis, his eyes like two dark suns holding their own glow. His face was contorted with hunger as he reached between their bodies and shifted back on his knees so he could settle against Hermione's opening. He felt huge as he rested the engorged head of his organ against her wet core. It was soft, warm and welcoming. He let out a hiss and looked up at Hermione, pressing forward slowly, feeling the witch's body resist slightly, then swallow him down a third of the way, her inner flesh gripping his rigid flesh like a velvet fist as he slid inside her.

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she let out a purring moan as she felt Snape enter her, stretching her body around his girth, filling her. Damn, he was so big and felt so right.

"Mmmmm," Snape breathed, his nostrils flared as he looked down at the witch and pushed deeper, slowly coming to rest against her cervix. He couldn't fit inside her completely, but he didn't need to.

This was enough. More than enough.

"Open your eyes. I want to see them," Snape hissed, drawing back and stroking the witch gently, Hermione letting out another moan of pleasure as she opened her eyes and looked up at him, orbs glistening.

"Now you're going to learn what it is to be appreciated, witch. Hopefully, you'll never accept anything less from any wizard again," he breathed, lowering himself on to Hermione completely and reaching down to pull up her knees on either side of his slender frame, then slipping his arms under her shoulders, his hands cradling her head, embracing Hermione as he locked his mouth to hers and began to thrust slowly, filling her again and again.

The couple undulated sensuously on the sofa, Snape's pale body flexing in counterpoint to the witch's movements. He was sure and deliberate, his lips moving over her mouth, throat and shoulders, his hands controlling the motions of her head as his own bent first this way, then that as he delivered slow, searing kisses, lapping at her heat, letting one hand slip to her thigh, caressing it as he claimed her.

Hermione sighed and moaned with pleasure, unable to do anything other than feel and respond to Snape's ministrations. Snape made no sound except for the occasional exhalation of breath. Snape stopped kissing Hermione, letting his cheek rest against hers as he held her, focusing on the feel of her body caressing and accepting him, keeping up his slow steady possession, Hermione's fluids bathing him in heat as he pierced her again and again, pressing his toes into the arm of the sofa and using it to control his strength and depth without hurting the witch.

As Hermione lay under Snape, pleasure rippling over her with every tender, fulfilling thrust, she knew she'd never be happy with Ron again. Not this way. Reflexively, she tightened her hold on the Potions master.

"Oh Severus," she hissed as the wizard twisted his hips, changing the angle of his penetration deliciously. Gods, he was so good at this.

The wizard began alternating his strokes, changing angles, rotating his pelvis on occasion, delving into Hermione completely, never breaking contact, never letting her feel as if she were alone in this coupling, this experience, his mouth finding hers again. He felt her sleeve clutch at him spasmodically and broke his kiss, falling still.

Hermione's eyes flew open, liquid and wet as she looked up at the dark wizard, who wore a sober expression as he looked down at her. He felt Hermione pull at the small of his back at first to make him fall back into his stroke, then when he wouldn't, she grasped his tight buttocks and yanked at him.

He smirked.

"I take it shagging me is not the chore you believed it would be," he purred down at the witch, wincing a bit as she rolled her pelvis, whirling his cock inside her and receiving some of the sensation she longed for.

"I think you're ready for a slightly modified version of the Missionary position," the wizard said, kissing Hermione softly, then lifting his upper body, holding himself up on one hand, staying securely embedded inside her and slipping his right arm under her thigh and pulling it upward, extending her leg and resting it against his right shoulder. Hermione's other leg slipped off the sofa, her left foot resting on the floor.

Snape began to move again, the new position giving him a greater range of motion as he pulled back so only the very tip of his cock remained in Hermione, who let out a cry as she felt him almost withdraw, then a delighted keen as he pushed all that hot, hard meat back inside her.

"Yes, you like that, Hermione," Snape breathed, then began to move a bit faster, still gentle, still deep but controlled, watching Hermione's responses as he bit his lip. His shaft glistened in the low torchlight and he buried himself between her soft thighs, his possession smooth and running his lips over her leg, slipping his fingers between her toes, thrusting his digits through them.

Hermione had never felt anything like it and hissed like a cat. Snape's eyes narrowed with pleasure at the sound. Yes, he was reaching her. Maybe this would help her decision, knowing that there would be nights like this between them if she agreed to leave her world and become part of his. Many nights like this one.

Snape jerked her body gently, Hermione gasping as he bumped lightly against her cervix, a satisfying check at the end of each luscious slide of his thick shaft. The wizard suddenly straightened and rose to both knees, grabbing Hermione's left leg and resting it against his left shoulder then sitting back on his heels, shifting forward, his knees wide so the witch's body was accessible. Hermione stared up at his slender body, erect between the V her legs formed against his shoulders, his hair nearly hiding his face. Snape shook it back so she could see him, his lip curled slightly as he began thrusting again, his black eyes dropping to the juncture of their bodies, his flesh pale against Hermione's darker tone. Snape's hands slid over Hermione's bouncing breasts and grasped them gently, the wizard caressing and fondling her fullness, tweaking her nipples as he pumped his pelvis, driving into her warmth a bit harder. Hermione grasped his forearms reflexively, her nails digging into his flesh.

Snape hissed, but didn't pull away. The witch didn't realize what she was doing . . . besides, the slight pain was a bit of a turn on.

Hermione's brown bushy hair was starting to form ringlets, growing damp from her perspiration. Snape reflexively reached out and ran his fingers through it, then over her cheek and lips, Hermione catching his digits between her teeth for a moment, then sucking on them gently. Snape allowed this for a moment, then withdrew his hand. If the witch kept this up, then "reciprocal" would definitely be on the table.

Suddenly, Hermione's body clamped down on him with a powerful pressure, choking his cock and trapping him.

"Shit!" Snape gasped as her orgasm rolled over him, her inner flesh clutching and sucking at him, trying to take him over the edge as well. Snape's face contorted so severely, he looked as if he were in a rage as he fought back the urge to come.

"No you don't witch," he said through gritted teeth as Hermione's head twisted back and forth in the throes of bliss. "I'm nowhere near done with you."

With a supreme effort, Snape pulled out of Hermione with a pop, the inner grip had been so tight. He rolled the witch on her side and slid behind her, lying full length on the sofa, slipping his right arm under her body and curling it around her waist, pulling her tight against him then lifting her left leg and entering her from behind. It was a very tight fit since she was still coming down from her orgasm and he groaned. The wizard pulled her hair aside and locked his lips to her moist throat as he held her open, stroking her hungrily now, Hermione beginning to cry out again, his penetration cutting through her haze and once again lifting her to the heights.

Dear gods, did the pleasure ever stop with this man?

As she felt the wizard's sinewy arm tighten around her belly and one pale hand lock into her hair roughly as he flexed and drove into her, Hermione knew that although the pleasure would eventually come to an end . . . it wouldn't be soon.

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A/N/N: Thanks for reading. readers, if you would like to hear the song I picked for this chapter, which in this case has a personal meaning for me, please visit my website at theburningpen . com and go to chapter 13 of Yuleride.


	14. Continuance

**Chapter 14 Continuance**

Snape suddenly shifted, drawing Hermione upward and sliding to a sitting position, his back against the sofa, Hermione sitting on his cock, facing away from him, her legs on either side of his as the wizard shifted downward so his hips rested on the edge of the cushions and Hermione's feet were on the floor. He caught a firm hold of her waist, his pale fingers encircling it, lifting the witch.

"Oh my gods," Hermione gasped as the wizard pushed her upward, his shaft sliding partially out of the witch, then gently let her back down, Hermione moaning as he penetrated her. Snape held her aloft carefully so he wouldn't go too deep.

"Show me how you like it, Hermione," Snape crooned. "Ride me, witch. I'm all yours."

Snape began to show Hermione how to move and the witch caught on quickly, bouncing on the wizard's cock, Snape hissing like his house namesake as he felt and watched the witch surrender to her own needs and desires. She was a lusty little thing once she got going.

"Yes! Yes!" he encouraged Hermione, caressing her back and fondling her breasts as she rode him, crying out with pleasure, rolling her buttocks and losing herself in pleasure. With Ron she was always on the receiving end. This was wonderful, gods, the professor felt amazing. Hermione threw her head back and let out what could only be described as a howl as she wound her hips and ground down on the wizard, who let out a choked cry of his own at her ardor.

Suddenly, Snape pulled her back against him, wrapping both arms around her arms pinning them down to her sides and taking over, thrusting into her hungrily, Hermione's breasts bouncing, unable to do anything other than cry out as the wizard took his fill, pumping hard and fast, his face in a snarl of pleasure as he squelched through her juices, his arms slipping over her wet skin. They were almost cheek to cheek, the back of Hermione's head resting against the wizard's shoulder, her hair sticking to his face. She could hear Snape's low groans as he lost himself in her soft body.

After about three minutes of steady pummeling, Snape stopped moving, Hermione panting against him, her hips rolling urgently, seeking continuance.

"On a scale of one to five, Hermione, what grade would you give my shagging abilities?" the wizard purred in her ear, his soft voice thrilling the witch as he gave her a gentle thrust to urge her to respond.

"A ten," she sighed, "Keep going, Severus."

Hermione was rewarded with a low, sexy chuckle from the pale wizard.

"I see I've sufficiently managed to shut down your logic center," Snape responded, his lips curling in a sardonic smile against the shell of her ear.

Suddenly he rolled with her, very carefully, Hermione ending up face first in the sofa, Snape curled around her back. He released her arms and widened his legs, grasping the back of the sofa.

"Position change," Snape said and began to stroke her from behind, slowly and deliberately with long, deep strokes using his girth and length to full advantage, literally purring as he put it to Hermione. He let go of the couch and caught one of Hermione's arms then the other, pulling them to her back and pinning them there with one hand, then gathering her hair into his other hand, making a fist and pulling her head back, Hermione's mouth going slack as she felt him lock her down and drive into her harder and deeper.

"Oh shit!" Hermione cried out as Snape sped up, his black eyes resting on her rippling buttocks as he thrust his pelvis forward and back, bouncing Hermione, yanking her hair gently from time to time as if it were reins. Then he let her hair go, and Hermione's head fell forward. But only for a moment . . .

"Thwack!"

"Arrrgh!" Hermione cried out as Snape slapped her buttock with a flat palm, stinging her flesh, her head flying up.

"Are you a naughty witch?" he breathed at her, stroking her with his cock then slapping her ass again, watching it jiggle and grow slightly pink.

Oh gods this was kinky, but . . . damn it . . . she liked it. She looked over her shoulder at the wizard. His hair was clinging to the sides of his face from his perspiration, his black eyes glittering as he looked back at her, a lustful sneer on his face as he moved rhythmically, piercing her again and again. He was like some pale avenging angel/devil his thin frame flexing.

"Yes! Yes, Severus! I'm a naughty witch!" Hermione gasped as he hit her cervix, then slapped her ass again, this time the other buttock, her arms still pinned behind her.

"Restraint becomes you, witch," Snape gasped, then starting spanking and shagging her in earnest, his stroke and his sting taking Hermione over, the wizard delighted she had such a dark side and he was the one who discovered it. Maybe she could take a bit more roughness.

Snape gave her quite a beating, but not more than she could take, pulling his blows and smoothing the sting as he spanked her. But he put his tool to her ardently, stroking deep. By her moans and cries and generous lubrication, Hermione loved it, and that boded well.

Finally Snape stopped spanking and stroking the witch. Hermione's plump bum was a pretty pink now and the wizard eyed it appreciatively, running his hand over it gently before pulling Hermione up against him, sliding her hair aside and kissing her throat.

"Am I too much, Hermione?" he asked her softly, aware that the witch wasn't used to such treatment . . . or such stamina. He was still hard as diamond and he pressed his length into her soft cheeks. Hermione let out a little hiss. Everything around her seemed to be part of some crazy, erotic movie or dream in which Severus Snape was the surprisingly talented star.

"Am I too much, witch?" Snape asked her again, his voice a bit hard now as he ground his loins into her. "If I am, you'd better let me know. Silence is not your friend."

Snape began caressing her belly with one hand, and fondling her breast with the other, moving against her, once again kissing and licking her neck, Hermione sighing helplessly at the feel of his lips, hands and hardness rubbing against her stinging buttocks. Snape let his hand slide down through her pubic hair and his talented fingers went to work. Hermione letting out a cry and attempting to grab at his hand, the feeling between her legs too intense.

Once again, Snape easily locked her wrists together with one hand and twiddled her unmercifully, Hermione arching against him, begging him to stop, a look of dark enjoyment in the wizard's eyes as he brought her to yet another peak, licking her release off his digits then rising and pulling Hermione up, turning her and capturing her lips again, pressing her into his lean body.

He began backing her up as he kissed her, walking the witch across the room, keeping her occupied with his kisses until the back of her buttocks hit his desk. Hermione's eyes flew open and she let out a squeal as Snape lifted her and placed her on the desk, pulling her forward and moving between her thighs, stiff and ready for another go.

"Don't you ever stop?" Hermione asked him softly as Snape lifted her arms and draped them around his neck.

"Eventually," he purred, kissing her again, then pressing one hand to the small of her back to hold her steady as he lifted his cock and positioned himself against her.

He eased forward, black eyes locked to brown, Hermione letting out a moan as he entered her again, filling her with his hot, hard flesh. Snape rested his forehead against Hermione's, his eyes still locked to hers and began to move slowly, pulling her forward into his thrust, fucking her face to face.

"You feel exquisite," Snape breathed at the witch, "and you are . . . so lovely and passionate, Hermione. Too passionate for what you have now. Come with me. I will be good to you."

Snape arched into the witch and held himself there, straining against her, getting as close and deep inside the witch as he could, Hermione gasping at the pressure.

"Say you'll come with me," Snape groaned as she pulsed around him.

"You . . . you . . . this isn't fair . . . don't ask me to choose now . . . not now . . . Severus . . ." Hermione gasped, her lips only inches from his.

"Fairness be damned. I want you with me," he breathed at her, grasping her waist now, pulling back and driving into the witch, making her gasp and buckle, her arms tightening around his neck.

"You have . . . to wait," Hermione hissed as he drove into her again.

Snape straightened, his face contorting as he looked at the witch.

"You will come with me!" he snarled, pushing Hermione down to her back and leaning over her, capturing her mouth and beginning to ride her hard, jerking the witch roughly over the desk as she cried out into his mouth.

All Severus Snape wanted to do was possess this stubborn, maddening woman under him, wrapped around him. He wanted to break her will, take her over, make her see that he was the one wizard who knew what she needed. That he was the one wizard who could set her free and plant her firmly on the path she was always meant to follow. The path to Greatness.

Snape slid his arms under Hermione's legs and yanked them up, spreading the witch as wide as she would go, slipping his arms under her back and curling his hands over her shoulders so she was nearly doubled in half, her thighs trapped under his arms.

Hermione stared up at the wizard, her eyes glazed, her body lost, her mind whirling as Snape glared down at her, looking as cruel as he ever looked, but with a fire and purpose behind those glinting dark eyes. He wanted her. She could see it, feel it as the wizard began to move again, his hair swinging, his lips curling, his slender body tight and tense, sweat lending a sheen to his nearly alabaster skin as he stroked her, caressed her, filled her like Ron never could. This filling was more than physical although the professor was better endowed than her sweetheart. There was another kind of filling, an answer to a question she had refused to acknowledge, and once acknowledged, refused to answer. A sense of wholeness, a promise of completion, not just on this level, but on every level as Snape took her to the heights again.

No, he was no more handsome than he was at the beginning of this night, but he was much more desirable. How could he not be, taking her as he was, showing her that there was more to sex than simply serving as a vessel for a wizard's lust? Oh, she felt his lust, how couldn't she when he was driving into her in no uncertain terms, that pale face contorting, twisting, pleasure and near pain in his expression as he possessed her. It was easy to see it was not just lust, but work . . . he was working to bring her what she needed. This wasn't one-sided. She knew Severus Snape, as selfish as the wizard appeared to be, would never allow their interactions to be less than mutually satisfying. He was a proud man, and his pride would never allow him to be anything less than a true lover. Yes, he wanted her to surrender, but that surrender meant nothing if she didn't feel him. And that was the difference between the dark wizard and Ron. Ron only wanted sex. Snape wanted much more.

And here he was, dark, strong and affecting, taking and giving at the same time, wanting more for her and more for himself. Dear gods, she never knew it could be this way.

But now, now she did.

Snape felt Hermione's body clamping down on him, but this time he couldn't stop the hunch in his back, the urgency in his loins, the need for completion thrumming through him as Hermione let go one more time, bursting, her climax flowing over him like magma, her sweet voice hitting a high note that raced up his spine. He had wanted to do so much more, but the dam had burst and the tide rose too high. With a cry close to despair the wizard slammed into the luscious witch beneath him almost to the hilt and released, his seed pouring through him, filling her, bathing her with his heat and spent passion as he gasped, shuddering, once again claiming that sweet mouth, his tongue delving into that sweet heat, clutching her close as the world spun wildly, taking him with it.

Severus Snape and Hermione Granger flowed together, connecting, merging and holding that space for one eternal moment before falling away into their separate selves, panting and holding each other . . . complete.

Snape rested against Hermione's softness, finally pulling away from her mouth and looking down at the witch. She was soaked and beautiful. He could see many nights looking down on her this way, his heart full and satisfied because he had someone to share his dreams with, someone of a kindred spirit.

If only she'd agree to come with him.

"So beautiful," Snape breathed, "and so wasted. You see it now, don't you Hermione? What you have missed, and what you can have with me. The way is clear, witch. The only possible way for you to find true happiness is with me."

Hermione lay there, her eyes closed, listening to Snape's rich persuasive voice as he softened inside her. She didn't speak. She couldn't. All she could feel was the residual burn of the wizard's ardor, of his passion. For the first time in a long time, Hermione Granger came away from a sexual encounter completely satisfied.

Who cared if he was physically unattractive? There was much more to Severus Snape that met the eye. She always thought him brilliant, courageous, powerful, and now she knew that behind closed doors, he was a man who could deliver passion. Something her life sorely lacked.

As she looked up at the dark wizard, his face sober as he stared down at her, she wondered if passion was enough? After the euphoria died down and his burn faded away, would she still feel this way?

Then Snape kissed her again.

Maybe she would.

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A/N: I hope ya'll found this chappie satisfying. Thanks for reading. 


	15. Slytherin House Strikes Again

**Chapter 15 Slytherin House Strikes Again END OF PART 1**

Hermione and Severus retired to the wizard's bedroom. It was just as sparse, if not more so than his study. Only a bed, dresser, wardrobe and a chair occupied his rooms. There were no portraits on the wall or anything on the floor. Still, Snape's four-poster bed was large and firm, and once Hermione fell into it, she was out like a light.

Snape on the other hand, stared down at the witch consideringly.

Yes, tonight had been stellar and he had made a definite impression on her, but what would happen once she returned home and saw Ron? She was a Gryffindor after all, and as such she had a dismal and misguided sense of loyalty. It could be she would talk to her lover, or worse, show him what she needed, buoyed by her night with him.

That couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it.

Snape's wheels started turning and shortly . . . he had a plan.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning, her head resting on the pale shoulder of the Potions master, who stirred immediately when she shifted. His dark eyes opened and rested on her. 

"Good morning," the wizard purred, well aware of his morning erection. Rarely did he have the chance to indulge it.

"Good morning," Hermione said, feeling shy and embarrassed as she looked at the wizard, remembering their shared night.

Snape looked at her, making no move. Hermione shifted away from him and sat up, feeling slightly uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I need to go," she said shortly.

"Of course," Snape purred.

Hermione felt a little twinge of disappointment that the wizard didn't protest her wanting to depart so quickly, but she slid out of the bed, painfully aware of her nakedness.

"My clothes are still in the study," she said unnecessarily.

"Yes, they are," Snape agreed.

Hermione stood there, looking at the wizard, who was still beneath the sheets. The outline of his erection was clearly visible, but he still made no advance toward the witch.

"I'm going to get dressed," Hermione said.

"You do that," Snape agreed, stretching.

He watched as Hermione exited his bedroom, then rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom to relieve himself. His erection didn't go down as he pissed. It wouldn't. It was a true erection, not a morning hard-on. He returned to the bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for Hermione to return. She did so, fully dressed.

"I'm . . . I'm leaving now," she said softly, feeling awkward as she looked at the naked, pale wizard. His organ was erect, long and enticing.

"I imagine I will see you at the end of holiday," the wizard said coolly, his black eyes resting on her.

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

Severus rose from the bed and approached her.

"I will see you then," he said, stopping a foot away from her. He made no attempt to close the distance, although his cock made a commendable effort.

Hermione looked at him, a bit of disappointment on her face. Didn't he feel anything?

Snape looked at her soberly, his dark eyes glittering.

"Don't interpret my not pouncing on you as a gauge as to what I would like to do, Hermione, but the fact of the matter is, you have a decision to make. Last night I did all I could do to sway you my way. The rest is up to you," the wizard said silkily.

"I know," Hermione responded, her eyes resting on his cruel mouth.

Snape stared at her for a moment, then said, "Come, let me walk you to the door."

He caught her arm and guided her through the bedroom door and into the study. The wizard picked his robes off of the floor and slipped into them, buttoning a couple of fasteners, then picking up his wand. He walked to the wall that opened on to his office, Hermione following, watching as he pulled the torch and the wall slid up. He gestured to her to walk through.

Hermione did, her stomach in knots.

Snape followed her, once again bathed in shadow in the dim torchlight of his office.

"Until I see you next witch," he said to her softly.

Wasn't he even going to give her a parting kiss? Apparently not.

"Goodbye, Severus," Hermione said in a subdued voice. She opened the office door, walked through and closed it behind her.

Snape stood there for several moments. Yes, he could have been more demonstrative. It would have been quite nice to kiss the witch, but then he would have been moved to do something more. Besides, it was better to let her leave hungry and wanting a response from him. It would make her think more. And he wanted her to think.

But Severus Snape was far too calculating to rely on the witch's feelings alone. He had to do something, and he knew just what to do.

* * *

Madam Natasha Simpers sat in her office going over her books. Business had been very good lately, the whores and gigolos bringing in top dollar. Pleasure was a business after all, and Madam Simpers House of Hooch was doing ample business. 

There was a knock on the door. Natasha quickly put her books away.

"Come in," she said.

A red-headed witch in a corset and high heels entered.

"There's a Mr. Snape to see you, Madam," she announced.

Snape? She hadn't seen Severus Snape for more than a year. Things were looking up.

"Send him in," the witch said, fixing her boa.

Snape swooped in, his dark eyes taking in the heavy set Madam in her red dress and feathered boa. He sat down in the cushy armchair before her huge mahogany desk.

"Professor Snape," the Madam purred.

"Hello, Natasha," the Potions master said informally.

"What can I do for you?" Natasha inquired, a smile on her lips. "How many girls do you need? It's been a while since you've graced our doors."

"I am in need of your services, but not for myself, Natasha. I want to make a 'gift' of one of your girls. One who is very skilled in the art of fellatio. It is for . . . a friend," the Potions master said.

Natasha looked quite interested.

"A friend?" she asked.

"Yes," Snape replied. "His name is Ronald Weasley and he works at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Are you familiar with the place?"

"Oh yes," Natasha replied, her hazel eyes glinting. This was something special. Something special meant galleons.

"I need one of your girls to pay him a visit and provide services. He isn't expecting it, and it will require your girl to be rather . . . direct. He isn't up on subtlety," the Potions master said.

"I understand," Natasha replied, "Do you want the full Monty?"

"No. No intercourse. This is to be strictly fellatio. I want him to receive the best blowjob possible. All the stops pulled out," Snape said. "Only a blowjob. An extremely good one, one he will never forget. I am willing to pay double the going rate if you can provide this. It is important that the girl make a definite impression, but not reveal she is a prostitute. It has to seem like a random encounter."

"What does he look like?" Natasha inquired, rather intrigued by the scenario.

Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a picture of a smiling, freckled Ron. He slid it over the desk.

Natasha studied it for a moment, then looked at Snape.

"I'm sure I can arrange this for you. When would you like him to be 'visited?'" the Madam asked.

"As soon as possible. Today," Snape replied, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a bag full of coin.

Natasha's eyes glittered as he set it on her desk.

"Today it is then," she assured the wizard, drawing the bag to herself.

Snape nodded, a thin smirk on his face.

If this went as well as he hoped, Hermione would soon call on him in the affirmative.

Slytherin House had struck again.

* * *

A/N: End of Yuleride, Part 1. Thanks for reading. 


	16. The Plot Thickens

**Chapter 16 ~ The Plot Thickens**

Hermione walked across the grounds, conflicted and affected, her warm breath curling around her face as she headed for the gates. She couldn't believe she had actually slept with the Potions master. It all seemed like some kind of twisted, erotic dream. One thing was for certain however, and that was you couldn't judge a potion by its bottle. Snarky, cold, physically unattractive Severus Snape was one hell of a lover and had Ron beat by leagues.

Ron. Gods, she had to see him. Talk to him. Explain what happened last night. Tell him why she ran away. And hide the fact she'd been gloriously shagged by a man that he abhorred on the night he proposed.

Hermione wasn't ready to get married and live a stone's throw from Ron's mother and father's house, using all the "gifts" everyone gave her and bearing a slew of children. She didn't know if she'd ever be ready for the kind of life . . .

Hermione hesitated.

She didn't know if she wanted to marry Ron. She thought she did until the reality of it crashed down on top of her last night like a misbalanced Christmas tree. And Snape, he did nothing but cast even more doubt on a life as Mrs. Weasley the second, the third really if you counted Fleur.

But, she didn't really know Snape, even after their intimacy last night. He could make her leave a safe stable, if dull situation and then . . . just change his mind about everything, not caring what happened to her. She'd be adrift then. Ron certainly wouldn't want her back after leaving him. She'd be alone in the world. Ron wasn't perfect, but he was there for her. She didn't have that assurance with the Potions master.

Maybe, maybe she could become betrothed to Ron, but put the wedding off for a couple of years while she traveled with Snape.

Hermione sighed.

No, that wouldn't work. If she traveled with the dark wizard, she was sure they would be more than companions. They would be lovers. He had said that he wouldn't pressure her for sex if she didn't want him, but . . . how could she not want him? Especially after last night? That was the best sex she'd ever experienced. A bit of heat hit her belly when she thought of it . . . of him.

Now, the guilt set in. It was inevitable. Hermione was a woman who believed in doing what was right and proper. Up to this point, she had done that as far as Ron was concerned. She'd never even kissed another wizard . . . never . . .

Well, that was all water under the drawbridge now.

Severus Snape was the devil. A lurking devil that slunk about Hogwarts, horns and hooves retracted, sheltered in shadows, tempting others and making his diabolical plans without caring whose life he ruined in the process.

Hermione blinked as she opened the gates and let herself out.

Even if Snape was the devil, it was she who willingly ran to him and entered his lair, wanting his comfort . . . no comfort wasn't what she had wanted. He wasn't a comforting man by any rate. He was the kind of man that frightened, but compelled. Still, he was strong and Hermione had needed strength, a sense of protection. Snape's presence didn't make her feel safe. He was far from safe. But she knew his domain was impenetrable, and that's why she ran to him. She knew he would guard his turf, if not her . . .not without a reason. He would keep Ron away and did so, for a price.

Still, Snape had the ability to stir the silt of her discontent just as surely and expertly as he stirred his potions. The only thing a person could do with silt was filter it away. Snape wanted to be that filter.

The snarky wizard clearly wanted her. Passionately. Yes, it was to help him realize his own dreams, but after last night, it could be more. Could he be that passionate with just any witch?

Maybe. Maybe that was just the way Snape was behind closed doors. Any closed doors. But he had seemed very angry at Ron for his lack of appreciation and determined to show her an aspect of sex that she was missing. What it was like to be with a man who did appreciate her womanhood, who seemed to even worship it. Now, even if she didn't go with him, what the dark wizard had shown her would haunt her for the rest of her days unless she managed to change Ron somehow.

Maybe . . . maybe she could have a serious talk with Ron about their relationship and what she needed to be fulfilled. Snape had taught her that much. Maybe Ron would get it and take the time to make her feel as beautiful and wanted as Snape did last night. There was a chance that could happen. If Ron could do that, marrying him wouldn't be so bad . . .

Hermione Disapparated to the Burrow. Yes, she'd talk to Ron.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she didn't see the Potions master striding across the grounds himself behind her, sour-faced and grim, his robes billowing as he headed for the brothel, devilish plan in tow.

******************************************

"Hermione, where in the world were you? Ron was nearly mad with worry, and so were the rest of us," Molly said, ushering Hermione into the kitchen and looking her over for any damage.

The kitchen was full of wonderful smells. Molly was in the process of preparing a large Christmas breakfast. Hermione couldn't help her mouth watering in response. She was starving. Then she realized Molly was waiting for an answer.

"I—I went to Hogwarts," she said.

"But Ron went to Hogwarts looking for you. Professor Snape let him in to check your rooms," Molly replied, her eyes narrowing a bit. Was Hermione lying to her?

Hermione saw Molly's suspicion and thought quickly. She hadn't even considered getting the third degree.

"I went to the Astronomy tower to . . . to clear my head," Hermione lied.

Molly studied her, then let out a sigh as she checked on the sizzling bangers in one of the pan on the stove.

"You poor dear. I told Ron it might be better to propose in private, rather than in front of the entire family," she said softly.

Hermione nodded.

"I was overwhelmed, Molly. It felt as if the walls were closing in on me. I had to get out of here. I'm sorry," she said.

Molly patted her shoulder in a motherly way.

"There's no need to be sorry. Sit down and let me give you something warm," Molly said. "Let's hope you don't come down with a wizard's cold, the way you're dressed in just a sweater and jeans."

Hermione was still dressed like she was when she escaped last night.

"I didn't think to put on a cloak," Hermione said, realizing she barely felt the cold air when she left the school. She was really out of it because of the Potions master and what they had done. "Where's Ron? I need to talk to him."

Molly set a steaming cup of tea before Hermione.

"He's at the joke shop. You know George always opens up on Christmas day to catch the rebound crowd who want to pay others back for joke presents. He calls it 'tit for tat" day. Makes a lot of money, he does. He made Ron come with him, saying he could work on his relationship after they've made a few Galleons," Molly said.

George always kept an eye out for business opportunities. Christmas day sales could be quite lucrative. Hermione running away out of shock at Ron's proposal wasn't anything serious. They'd been together forever. They'd work it out. Ron should have waited and done it properly. George was a confirmed male slut—er—bachelor, but even he wouldn't have approached a witch he was interested in that way.

Hermione sipped her tea, thankful Ron wasn't there. She'd have a few hours to get her story straight and then, to have a serious talk with him about their future. It was long overdue.

Suddenly she was aware of another presence as Molly took fresh

"Hermione, where did you go last night?" Ginny said from the doorway, frowning at her slightly. She, Harry and the family had spent the night.

Hermione looked up as Harry appeared behind Ginny, rubbing his green eyes then putting on his glasses. He stared at her in silent askance. Arthur Weasley walked in from out of the cold, red-faced and with a scarlet and gold scarf wrapped around his throat. He'd been in his workshop, tinkering with an old vacuum cleaner Bill and Fleur gave him for Christmas.

Hermione took another sip of her tea.

It was going to be a long morning.

* * *

"I thought she'd be happy about it, George," Ron said to his brother, who was waiting on a customer, his face slightly frowned as he heard him. He dropped a couple of Knuts in her hand.

"Thank you for shopping Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Now remember, a drop of that in his spiced cider will do the trick. His head will shrink to the size of an apple for about five minutes."

The witch gave a rather nasty little smile and left.

"Ah, another satisfied customer," George said, looking around the shop with satisfaction. There were several steely=eyed customers browsing about, intent on revenge. He just loved Christmas morning. Then he looked at Ron, who was standing about doing nothing.

"Oh, suck it up, Ron. She was just overwhelmed, mate. I bet she's back at the Burrow right now," George said.

Ron looked at him, his eyes perplexed.

"But why, why'd she run away in the first place?" he asked his brother.

George shook his head.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you sprung your proposal on her with all the delicacy of a tribe of stampeding trolls," he replied. "These matters have to be handled delicately, Ron. You only did it in front of us because you needed extra courage. You put her on the spot and it backfired."

Ron had been nervous about asking Hermione to marry him, but he felt as if she were pulling away from him. She didn't seem very happy and he couldn't understand why. His mother said it was probably because she wanted to be a proper wife, rather than a steady girlfriend.

"Every witch wants to settle down, Ron, and Hermione has been with you for years," his mum advised him. "It's time to show her you are committed."

Arthur wisely stayed silent about the entire situation.

So Ron got to work designing plans for a house, and asked everyone to give housewarming Christmas presents. But inwardly, he was a bit worried that Hermione might tell him no if he asked when they were alone. He was counting on her saying yes because his family would be present. He had tried to manipulate an acceptance out of her, not trusting her to say yes on her own. She was still so blasted independent. He liked that about her sometimes, but not when it got in the way of what he wanted. And what he wanted was a proper wife like his mum. Hermione wasn't there yet, but after becoming Mrs. Weasley, he was sure she'd fall into place. But after last night, he felt utterly rejected.

Poor Ron. He didn't have a clue.

"Um, excuse me," a sultry voice said.

Both Ron and George looked up to see a young woman standing in front of the counter. She had thick wavy black hair, green eyes and a very full mouth, painted a bright red. She wore a light winter cloak that did nothing to hide her curves. She was hot. Very hot. Both Ron and George stared at her.

"I'm looking for a belated present for my boyfriend," she said to the wizards. "I was hoping to get some assistance."

George hurried from around the counter.

"What kind of joke are you looking for," he asked her, his blue eyes raking over the witch.

"Um, not a joke actually. I understand you carry adult items here. Leather outfits," she said with a naughty smile.

George swallowed as Ron stared at the witch, speechless.

"Ah, yes. In the back of the store. Our 'Candy Chains and Licorice Whip' line. I'd be more than happy to help you pick something out."

The witch's green eyes shifted toward Ron.

"Thank you, but I wonder if he might help me. He looks a bit like my boyfriend," she purred.

Ron just blinked at her as George looked rather disappointed.

"He's my brother, so I must look a little like your boyfriend too," George pressed.

"You do, but he looks like him more," she said firmly.

"Fine. Go along, Ron," George said bad-naturedly. She really was a tasty little bit.

Ron swallowed then walked out from behind the counter and past the witch.

"Er, this way," he said, leading her to the back of the store.

Odessa followed him until they came to a black curtain that separated the joke shop from the adult shop in the back. It was protected by an age line. Ron pulled it open.

"Ah, the leather stuff is in here," he said thickly as she passed by him very closely, entering the area.

He looked back at George helplessly, but George was waiting on a long line of customers that seemed to appear magically. All very pretty young women. An added distraction.

Ron looked after his curvy customer then entered the area, following her.

He silently watched her walk to the bondage area and look over a number of enticing styles of leather gear. She picked up three different outfits and looked at Ron, who didn't say a word.

"Now, I just want you to give me your honest opinion how these look on me when I try them on. That's all," she said to him, walking over to the changing stalls against the far wall. Normally, Ron was supposed to count the items a customer took into the stalls, but he saw for himself how many of the sexy outfits she'd selected.

"Okay," Ron said obediently.

Merlin. Hermione would have bugbears if she knew he was doing this, Ron was sure of it. But the witch was a customer, and you had to please your customer, didn't you? Ron sat down in one of several little chairs kept for customer comfort and waited. The stall didn't reach the ground and you could see the ankles of the customer.

Ron watched as she stepped around, then started as the cloak she wore dropped to the floor and was kicked back. He blinked and watched as she removed her shoes, revealing a pair of very pretty feet, the toenails painted a bright red. Then he started again as a pair of tiny black thongs dropped to the floor.

"Shit," he breathed, his eyes widening, then shifting to the black curtain for a moment before resting back on the floor. He groaned miserably as he started to get a hard on.

"Please, kick them out of the way," he pled in his mind, but the thongs stayed right there, the pretty feet shifting about, stepping on them.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Odessa, who was the prostitute sent from Madam Simpers House of Hooch to give Ron his "special gift," stood there in a short leather skirt and leather bodice that accentuated every curve of her body. Ron looked as if someone had shoved a lemon in his mouth.

"How do I look?" she asked him, sliding her hands sensuously under her ample breasts.

"F—f—fine," Ron managed to get out.

"Just fine? That's not good enough. Take a look at it from the back," she said, turning around. Ron hardened even more as he saw just a hint of her ass and the cleft between her smooth cheeks. Odessa looked over her shoulder at him sexily and ran one hand up her thigh slowly.

"How's the view?" she asked him again.

Again, Ron replied, "F—f—fine."

She sighed at him.

"I don't know. Let me try on another one," she said, disappearing back into the stall.

Ron quickly reached down his jeans and adjusted his erection, hoping she couldn't see it. Gods, of all the things to have to sit through on Christmas morning after Hermione had bailed on him. It felt as if the devil himself were trying to tempt him into saying or doing something he'd regret.

If only Ron knew how close to the truth he was.

"Oh . . . damn," Odessa hissed from the stall.

"Er, what is it?" Ron called from the chair, hearing the irritation in her voice.

"I need some help zipping this up. Could you come in here, please?" the witch said.

Ron sat there for a moment.

"Did you hear me? I need some help!" Odessa called again.

Not knowing what else to do, Ron stood up and slowly approached the stall.

* * *

A/N: Surprise! It's getting awfully close to Christmas, soooooo . . . I decided to pick up a bit of Yuleride. Hope ya'll don't mind. I'll still be working on the other stories. Looking Glass may be coming down on Fan . Had a chapter removed by administration and I think it might be better to take it down entirely before they start scrutinizing more stories. Lol. I'm surprised I lasted this long on that site. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	17. The Dirty Deed is Done

**Chapter 17 ~ The Dirty Deed is Done  
**  
"Wait!"

The black privacy curtain swung back and Odessa walked through quickly, followed by Ron.

"Wait, just give me your name, then!" he called after her.

"Can't do that," the witch said, as George looked up, both eyebrows raised as he watched his brother hurry after the curvy customer. His brows lowered into a scowl when he saw she didn't have any merchandise.

"You have to tell me something—where do you live?" Ron begged.

Odessa walked by the counter and looked at George.

"I've decided not to buy anything here," she said quickly as she passed and made a beeline for the door.

"Don't go! Wait," Ron said desperately, pulling out his wand and firing a tracking spell at the prostitute as she opened the door. The spell didn't connect but caused a kind of ripple as if she were surrounded by water. She was protected by a Repelling spell.

Odessa walked through the door and immediately the sound of thunder rumbled.

"No!" Ron cried, ripping the door open and running outside. He stood there, first looking up and down the street, then overhead as if he hoped to see her flying away. Then, he dropped his head and walked back inside. Several customers looked at him curiously.

"Gods, they really go after a sale, don't they?" one wizard said to his friend, who was shaking his head.

George, who was furious, caught Ron's arm and led him back behind the counter and into the office. He let him go.

"What the bloody hell was that, Ron?" he asked his brother. "You were back there with her for forty-five minutes and she didn't buy anything! And then you chase her out of the store! You're going nutters!"

Ron stared at George for a moment, then slumped back against the desk, looking at the floor.

"Here now, what happened back there?" George asked him suspiciously. "Don't tell me you tried to have a go with her? You just proposed to Hermione last night, you bastard."

Ron looked up at him, his face red.

"You did hit on her!" George said disbelievingly.

"I didn't George—" Ron started to say.

"What? Do you think I'm stupid and deaf, Ron? You came out here begging for her name and address. You even tried to put a tracking spell on her. A tracking spell. Major stalker, Ron. Stalker! No wonder she didn't buy anything. Ten to one her boyfriend's going to come here later and break his boot off in your arse."

"You don't understand, George," Ron said, his blue eyes going unfocused as he seemed to stare into the recent past. "I just received the most brilliant blowjob of my life."

George's mouth dropped open, then he pulled out his wand.

"What? Let me see! Legilimens!"

**_Five Minutes Later:_**

"Damn. Holy mother of Merlin, you lucky fucking bastard," George panted as he withdrew from Ron's memories. "No wonder you chased her out of here. How did you bloody last so long? I would've spewed all over her face in less than a minute. That was-- gods. Now I wish you had gotten her name. I would've looked her up myself."

"I don't know. It was like she knew when I was getting close and eased up," Ron said hollowly. "Gods, she was amazing. She used her hands, her tongue, teeth, lips and throat. She took me down her throat, George, all the way up to my balls. And all the spit . . ."

Ron began to get another erection. George already had one. A bell sounded.

"A customer," George said to his brother. "Just stay here and recover, mate. I'll be back."

George left the room as Ron mulled over the best sexual experience of his life. Hermione had given him blowjobs before, but it was always half-heartedly. She wasn't good at it at all. He didn't even think she might be better at it if he were more reciprocal and didn't act as if it were all about him. Hermione's lack of enthusiasm was in direct correlation to his selfishness. But Ron wasn't thinking about that right now. Hermione wasn't on his mind at all.

* * *

Snape, who was sitting in his study reading an issue of "Going Muggle" a magazine about world travel sans magic, looked up when the flames of his fireplace turned green. He had it set so no one could enter his domain, but they could speak to him.

"Professor Snape? It's Natasha. Are you in?" the proprietor of Madam Simpers House of Hooch inquired politely.

"Yes, I am here," Snape replied, leaning forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh good. I just wanted to let you know Mr. Weasley's Christmas Gift has been delivered," the madam said.

"Did he—enjoy it?" the wizard purred.

"Oh yes. My girl had to escape him. He was hot on her heels, begging to know her name and where she lived," Natasha replied.

Snape ran a finger over his lips.

"Good. Excellent, in fact. Thank you, Natasha," he said.

"Anytime, Professor. Don't be a stranger," came the reply, then the flames turned red again.

Snape put his magazine down and sat back in the armchair, staring into the flames, his full attention on Ronald Weasley now. If he'd read his Weasley right, the buffoon wouldn't be able to get over what happened to him in the joke shop. It would thoroughly take over his imagination. What Snape was hoping was not only wouldn't Ron be able to put what happened behind him, but want more of the same treatment. In essence, he'd be on a mission to recreate that blowjob. And who would he turn to?

Hermione, who more than likely wouldn't want to slob his knob.

Hermione had told Snape that she rarely performed fellatio on Ron, so his newly revived interest in receiving such attention would most certainly cause a wider rift between the couple than already existed.

Snape's lip quirked a bit before his black eyes narrowed and a feeling of tightness tugged inside his chest. He tried to check the sudden rising fury he felt at the idea of Ron even asking Hermione to service him in such a manner. Suddenly he leapt to his feet, his face in a snarl.

"You don't deserve her!" he hissed at the red flames of his fireplace, envisioning Ron's head full of red hair. "You bloody pig. You just proposed last night, yet allowed a strange woman to suck your cock in a dressing stall not even twenty-four hours later. You don't love Hermione Granger. You just want to tie her down! Turn her into a trophy wife and brood mare. You won't do it! You won't bloody do it!"

Snape began to pace, his face contorted and robes billowing. Even though he'd set Ron up, the wizard didn't have to go for it. But Snape knew he would, because Weasley's conscience always lagged, even when he attended Hogwarts. He had one, but his skull was so thick it took awhile for it to make it to the surface, and generally too late.

Snape angrily kicked the small table between the armchairs over, sending his magazine flying and the table sliding across the floor. He stared at it as it stopped against the back of the couch, the couch he had taken Hermione on just last night. His nostrils were flared and his eyes as hard as diamond. His sallow face contorted murderously as he thought about his competition. That's what Ronald Weasley represented to him now, competition. Competition he had to eliminate one way or the other.

Snape breathed deeply, trying to cull his anger.

It was far too early to consider other methods to remove Ronald Weasley neatly out of the picture, but he would consider them if he had to do so.

Last night with the witch had cemented Snape's desire for her companionship in his dark heart and now that desire began to consume him. Hermione would come with him at the end of term. She must.

Ronald Weasley and everyone else be damned.

* * *

Hermione tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear after she placed another dish on the table. Molly had made a wonderful Christmas dinner for the family. Roast turkey, roast pork with apple sauce, Brussels sprouts with chestnuts, roast potatoes, parsnips and Swede, cranberry sauce, a rich nutty stuffing, tiny sausages wrapped in bacon, hot gravy, bread sauce and a Christmas pudding with brandy butter. There was enough food to feed a small army.

Molly looked at the spread critically.

"I hope it's enough," she said thoughtfully.

A disheveled Ginny in an apron splattered with gravy, and a small piece of potato peeling dangling from her hair said tiredly, "Trust me, mum. It's enough."

Molly had worked her and Hermione tirelessly. Fleur didn't help out at all, but stayed in the living room with the Ginny's children, Bill, Arthur and Charlie.

"I am a guest," she told Ginny pointedly when asked to chip in. Bill simply shook his head at his sister. Fleur was his wife, but she was nothing like his mother. Still, he loved her despite her diva-like demeanor.

Molly looked doubtful for a moment, then sighed. It would just have to do.

"All right, you two go get cleaned up," Molly said, adjusting a casserole dish full of roasted potatoes. "We're going to eat as soon as Ron and George get home."

Hermione's belly tightened.

"Um, Molly. I'm going to need a few minutes to talk to Ron," she said softly.

Molly looked at her as if she didn't know what she was talking about, then realized Ron was the only one who didn't yet know what happened.

"Oh, of course. We'll wait, Hermione," she said, patting Hermione's hand. "Still, go clean up."

As she and Ginny walked up the stairs, the redhead gave her a sidelong glance.

"Hermione, you told us why you ran off, but you didn't say anything about whether or not you were going to accept Ron's proposal," she softly.

"I know," Hermione replied shortly.

Ginny didn't say anything more as they parted ways, Hermione entering Ron's bedroom and Ginny her own.

* * *

Still dazed from his erotic encounter, Ron and George arrived home half an hour later. Ron stood in the kitchen staring down at the food but seeming not to see it, as George hurried into the living room to grab Bill and Charlie and spread the dirt. They wouldn't share it with the witches of course.

"Ah, Ron, Hermione is upstairs," Molly said to her son, frowning slightly. He seemed—preoccupied.

Ron blinked at her for a moment, then said, "Oh. I'd better go talk to her."

When he had got up this morning, Hermione was the only thing on his mind. Where did she go? Why? Didn't she want to marry him? Now, the situation just didn't seem as important. Apparently, clarity came as he did. He wouldn't give her a hard time about it.

Ron walked up the stairs and into the bedroom just as Hermione drew on another Christmas sweater. She had showered, washing away the last vestiges of her night with Severus Snape. She'd been Scourgified, but there was nothing like soap and water to make a person feel clean.

Hermione turned and looked at Ron. He looked a bit . . . odd.

"Hi, Ron," she said softly.

"Hi," he replied, looking at her sweater. "Nice sweater. Christmasy."

"Thanks," Hermione responded. This felt oddly formal.

"Ron, about last night," she began, but Ron shook his head.

"I surprised you. You weren't ready for me to propose. It's all right, Hermione," he told her.

Hermione just blinked at him. Ron was being very perceptive and understanding. Of course, this made Hermione's woman sense go off big time. Ron was normally neither of those things, unless he had time to think. Well, maybe he did think.

"I'm going to go downstairs for Christmas dinner. Are you coming," he asked the witch.

Hermione furrowed her brow at him.

"Don't you want to know where I went at least?" she asked him.

"I'm sure wherever it was, it was safe, since you're back now. I thought you might have gone back to Hogwarts eventually. Maybe just walked around a bit," the wizard said, his blue eyes resting on her. This was odd too. Ron always wanted to know where she went and who she was with.

"I—I did go to Hogwarts," she said slowly.

"Yeah. Well, are you ready for dinner?" he asked her, backing toward the door.

"Ronald? What's wrong with you? Don't you care I ran off on you?"

"Of course I care, but you came back, didn't you?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"Well, we can talk about what happened later," the redhead told her. "I'm starved."

"Aren't you even interested in my answer?"

"Answer? Answer to what?"

"Your proposal, you git!" Hermione said angrily.

"Oh. That. Well, I thought we'd talk about that later, too. Mum doesn't like to keep the food magically heated too long, Hermione. It starts drying out."

"Fine. Let's just go then," Hermione said, storming past Ron and down the stairs.

Ron followed her, his mind still on the blowjob he received. When he entered the kitchen, everyone was sitting down at the table. Charlie, Bill and George all stared at him, Bill shaking his head slightly. He was the only married brother, and what Ron had allowed to happen would ruin any chance of him being the next one if it were found out. Harry was seated as well, but no one told him about what happened at the joke shop. He would have gone ballistic on Ron. Harry loved Hermione like a sister.

"Come along now, everyone get seated," Molly urged, rushing Hermione to her seat. "Come along, Ron! Hurry!"

Ron sat down next to Hermione and Bill, who looked at him with a frown. Ron didn't seem to notice until they joined hands for the customary moment of silence and Bill crushed his fingers. Ron winced, turning his blue eyes on him.

"What?" he mouthed at his brother.

"You stupid prat," Bill mouthed back at him.

"All right! Everybody dig in!" Arthur announced jovially, and the melee began.

* * *

A/N: Another chappie. Thanks for reading. ***


	18. Discussions

**Chapter 18 ~ Discussions**

Percy arrived late, but Molly had put a plate aside for him so he'd get a bit of everything. She needn't have worried about having enough food. She'd made just enough. Hermione and Ron didn't eat with as much gusto as the rest of the family, although Ron still did a good job of tucking it away. The minute the Christmas pudding was devoured, George, Charlie and Bill sprang up out of their seats like jack-in-the-boxes.

"Great meal, mum. We're going to walk it off for a bit," Bill said, standing up and pulling Ron up with him. Ron resisted slightly.

"But I don't want to walk it off. I want a bit of a nap," Ron complained as Charlie appeared on the other side of him, taking his arm. Percy looked rather suspicious.

"Come on, Ron. You don't want to get fat do you?" Charlie asked his brother tightly as they ushered him to the door.

Ginny looked suspicious too, and Percy began to eat faster. If they were up to something, he wanted to know about it. Arthur simply shook his head as the witches looked after them.

"They are up to something, I think," Fleur said. "When more than two of them are together, something stinks at Hogwarts"

Harry, who was too stuffed to even think about walking anywhere other than the closest armchair, stretched and let one arm drop heavily behind Ginny.

"I think Ron had the right idea," he said, glad he wasn't asked to go along. He would have said no if he had been. "That was a smashing meal, mum."

Molly beamed at Harry.

"Why, thank you, Harry," she replied, absolutely glowing. Then she stood up and began collecting plates and utensils.

"You girls start gathering up plates and bringing them into the kitchen," she said to Ginny and Hermione. Both witches sighed as Fleur slid away from the table and sashayed freely into the living room, unfettered and fancy free. Molly never tried to press her into service.

"Yes, mum," they said in unison, slowly rising.

* * *

"Hey! Go easy!" Ron complained as Bill and Charlie marched him away from the Burrow and through the yard, heading up the road.

Bill smacked him upside the head. This stopped the procession cold.

"Ow!" Ron cried, wresting his arm away from his oldest brother. Charlie still had a good grip on his other arm. "What was that for?"

"That was for being a bloody idiot," Bill replied, his eyes narrowed. "What the fuck did you think you were doing today? George told us everything."

"How could you do that to Hermione?" Charlie hissed at him. "She's been with you forever. You're supposed to marry her."

"I am going to marry her," Ron said, trying to pull away from Charlie. George looked on silently

"Not if she finds out you got your tallywacker polished," Bill hissed at him.

"She's not going to find out. Anyway, I didn't mean for it to happen," Ron said in his defense.

"You could have stopped it," Charlie said to him.

Ron scowled at Charlie.

"You didn't see her, Charlie. Believe me, you wouldn't have stopped her either, she was beautiful. Hot. Something out of a wet dream. When she rubbed my willy through my jeans, it was like my brain stopped working. I couldn't speak or anything. It was like I was under a spell," Ron explained.

"I don't care how pretty she was, Ron. You have a commitment to Hermione. You bloody asked her to be your wife last night! Now you go and do this? Why, Ron? Did you want to get her back for running out on you or something?" Charlie asked him.

Ron pulled away from Charlie and stuck both hands in his pockets, beginning to walk again, flanked by his brothers.

"No, I didn't want to get back at her," Ron said softly, looking down at the ground sullenly as they walked. "It was just something that happened, I swear. Maybe . . . maybe I should come clean about it—"

"NO!" All three of his brothers exclaimed, startling Ron.

"Are you nutters?" George asked him. "You don't tell a witch you're courting something like that. Ever. Not only is it hurtful, it's Killing curse worthy. Many a wizard's been cut down in his prime confessing his infidelity to a witch he was involved with. And they usually get away with it because it was a 'crime of passion.' I don't advise you tell Hermione, Ron."

His other brothers murmured agreement.

"What am I supposed to do? I just can't forget about what happened," Ron said to his siblings.

"You'd better forget about it, mate, and fast. Maybe even an Obliviate is in order," Bill suggested.

Ron didn't want to forget the best blowjob of his life, not to mention the sexiest situation he'd ever been in. He'd been blown in a dressing stall by a beautiful stranger. That was one for the books. If nothing else ever happened to him, he'd be content with this memory.

"No, no Obliviate. I want to remember it. It was fantastic," Ron replied.

Bill shook his head.

"Ron, the woman was a complete stranger. She doesn't mean anything to you. You have everything to lose if what happened somehow got out," he told his brother earnestly. "Hermione is a sweet witch, and brilliant. If you ask me, you're bloody lucky to have her and need to stop taking her for granted. In case you didn't notice, she ran away from you last night and didn't come back until today."

Ron shrugged.

"It's not the first time she's taken off on me, Bill. She always comes back because she loves me. I apologize for whatever it was I did and it's all fine. Hermione isn't going anywhere, believe me," he said confidently.

"You can't be sure of that, Ron. I don't think she's ready to get married either. I don't know why you let mum talk you into proposing. She's playing both ends against the middle. I heard her telling Hermione she told you not to propose in front of the family. We all know that was mum's suggestion. You backed her into a corner, Ron, and she ran."

Ron walked along silently for a moment, then said, "Look, just stay out of it, okay? All of you. I've been dealing with Hermione successfully for this long. She's perfectly content with me and our relationship. It's comfortable."

Charlie looked over at Bill and shook his head. Although he was not married, he knew a "comfortable" relationship at this age didn't bode well. There should be some excitement still. It's not like Ron and Hermione were an old married couple like mum and dad. After all the years together and all the Weasleys bred, they had a right to be "comfortable."

"Ron—" Charlie started.

Ron whirled on him.

"Stay out of it, Charlie! All of you. I'm the only one with a steady witch here outside of Bill and he's married. I must be doing something right to hang on to Hermione the way I have. You blokes aren't in any position to tell me what to do!"

In the distance, Percy was hurrying along, anxious to catch up to them and find out what was happening. Ron saw him and scowled.

"Don't tell Percy anything. It'll all be out by nightfall if you do," he hissed at his brothers. "I'm going back to the Burrow. And I meant what I said. Stay out of my affairs. I don't need any of your advice. I'll handle Hermione my way."

Ron stalked back toward the Burrow, passing Percy, who stopped.

"What's going on, Ron?" he asked his brother, who simply shrugged and kept going.

Percy then hurried up to his brothers.

"What did I miss?" he asked them.

Charlie, Bill and George stared at him for a moment. Ron was right. Percy was the kind of wizard who believed in "full disclosure." He'd be mortified by what Ron had done and probably would take it upon himself to inform Hermione personally. He was a wizard, but he could keep up with any clucking witch easily. They never told Percy anything they wanted to keep to themselves.

"Nothing. We were just walking," George said, turning and heading for the Burrow also. Bill and Charlie began walking too.

Percy stared after them. He knew he was purposely being left out of the loop. They never told him anything.

Sullenly, he began walking back to the Burrow as well, wishing he knew what was going on.

* * *

When Ron returned to the Burrow, he immediately found Hermione and suggested they stay at her flat for the evening.

"It's a better place to talk. Less ears around. You know George still likes to listen in on things that don't involve him," Ron said to Hermione, who nodded.

"All right. Let me just say good-bye to everyone and thank your mum again," Hermione replied.

Hermione did so, and she and Ron Disapparated for her flat.

Once there and situated, they sat down to talk, and Ron was very interested in where Hermione went. The talk with his brothers had sobered him somewhat, especially when it was said Hermione might leave him and not come back. Ron was so used to Hermione being there, he couldn't imagine her leaving him. She had always been with him, and only him . . .

That had been true, until last night. If Ron thought getting an impromptu blowjob from a stranger was bad business relationship-wise, Hermione's full body contact with snarky Severus Snape would have been a crime worthy of the gallows.

"So, where exactly did you go last night, Hermione?" Ron asked her, his eyes sober as he sat across from her in the armchair. She was sitting on the sofa, twisting her hands. A sign that she was nervous.

"Well, I went to Hogwarts," she replied softly not looking up at him.

"But I went to Hogwarts and checked your quarters. You weren't in there. Snape let me in," Ron said in a low voice. Earlier, he had just thrown out she could have been walking around, but the truth was it was too cold for that, and he knew it.

"I went up to the Astronomy tower first. Sitting there always clears my head," she lied. "I stayed up there more than an hour, then went to my quarters and went to bed."

Ron nodded. He knew Hermione did like the tower. But he was so worried last night, it slipped his mind.

"I shouldn't have proposed to you the way I did," he told the witch. "I backed you into a corner. I should have done it with just you and me present, not made it a public event. I'm sorry, Hermione. I truly am sorry. I'm a git and I know it. I tried to set it up so you couldn't tell me no. I shouldn't have done that. It was selfish and stupid."

Hermione stared at Ron, saying nothing.

"If I had done it better, Hermione, been alone with you, would you have given me an answer?" he asked her.

Hermione's eyes filled and she slowly shook her head.

"I probably would have said I'd have to think about it, Ron," she said honestly.

Ron's face twisted slightly.

"What is there to think about, Hermione? After I build the house, we'll have everything we need for a good married life. You'd have your work, a home, a husband and security, Hermione. Isn't that what every witch wants? We'd have a good, solid life together. I thought you wanted that."

Hermione had thought she wanted that for the longest, until a certain black-eyed devil inserted himself into her life . . . quite physically.

"I did want that, Ron," she said softly.

"Did?" Ron repeated, paling a bit. What did she mean 'did?'

"I mean do," Hermione said, "I mean—I think I do. I'm just not sure now."

Ron stared at her. Maybe Bill was right. Maybe he could lose her.

"What changed, Hermione? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" he asked her, a bit of fear making his voice quaver.

Hermione started to use the old line, "It's not you, Ron. It's me," but didn't do it. This was an opportunity to communicate. She had invested years in Ronald Weasley. It wouldn't be fair to either one of them if she didn't at least attempt to save their relationship. Severus Snape, as seductive as he was, was still a stranger to her. She knew little about the man he really was, and what she did know of him was volatile, unpredictable. He was explosive and seemed to wear his inner rage and bitterness just beneath his pale skin. Snape seemed capable of anything, even violence towards her if she angered him. Being a phenomenal lover couldn't make up for that aspect, if it existed. She had heard that his father was an abusive man who murdered his mother in a fit of rage, then killed himself.

Abuse usually ran in the family, particularly if a child were exposed to it. Snape could be an abusive man as well.

Ron was a lot of things, but he was no woman-beater. He got angry quickly, but not to the point of screaming and frightening her, like Snape did. Usually, Ron would fall silent when he reached his limit, and begin pouting. In extreme cases, he would leave until they both cooled off. He always came back to straighten things out, which usually meant they didn't talk about the problem any more. That was no way to communicate.

Well, Hermione had her chance right now.

"It's not that you've done anything wrong, Ron. You're just being yourself," Hermione said slowly.

Ron thought this sounded worse than doing something wrong. If he'd done something wrong, he could correct it. But if it were something about him as a person, that might be harder to do.

"What does that mean?" he asked the witch.

Hermione sighed.

"It's all just become so—so mundane, Ron. I'm—I'm discontented with everything about my life," she said softly.

"Discontented? Mundane? Hermione, you have a great life. A good job, a wizard who loves you and wants to marry you—what more do you want?" he asked her. "Tell me what you want?"

"I want excitement," she said shortly.

Ron scowled now.

"Excitement? Hermione, you have enough 'excitement' under your belt to last a bloody lifetime. We all do. Voldemort's death wasn't that long ago, and we've had more than enough adventure. We almost died too many times to count!" Ron exclaimed. "We're lucky to even be here!"

"I know. I know, Ron, but my life is dull," she said.

Ron stood up now, his eyes narrowed.

"Hermione, your life isn't dull. It's 'normal.' Just the way it should be. Death shouldn't be lurking around every corner," he said to her. "We won, Hermione. We were working toward peace and now we have it. You should be thankful. Think of what the alternative would have been. More than likely we'd both be dead now, and a lot of people did die. We should live a peaceful life to honor and remember them, Hermione, and be grateful for our lot."

Hermione blinked at Ron. He actually made sense. Of course she should be thankful. Oh, Snape really was the devil. He had caught hold of her imagination and used it to twist her about. Well, she still needed to address another problem.

"There's something else," she said to him.

"What?" Ron snapped, still a little angry that Hermione didn't appreciate her situation. It cost a lot of lives to create this—mundane existence. His own brother had died fighting against Voldemort.

"Our sex life," she said softly.

Now Ron stared at her.

"What's wrong with our sex life?" he asked her, thinking one of the main things was she didn't blow him enough.

"What's wrong is you just come in here, strip down and expect sex from me. With no preliminaries, no romance—you just act like you're entitled to have me flip my heels in the air for you anytime you want."

"You don't do it anytime I want. You've said no plenty of times," Ron said tightly.

"But Ron, you don't take the time to make me want you," Hermione told him. "You just want to climb on. You don't do much kissing, touching or anything other than a few gropes. You ignore most of my body. It feels as if all you want to do is just stick your wand in me, and do your business. It doesn't even matter to you if I orgasm or not."

Ron stared at her. Of course he wanted to stick his wand in her. That was the entire purpose of sex, to penetrate the female body. Hermione never seemed to care if she orgasmed or not. She used to tell him it was all right when he didn't do it for her, that it didn't matter. She told him that so much, that he stopped worrying about it. Now it mattered? Well, it wasn't his fault she didn't tell him the truth.

"You said it didn't matter," he said accusingly.

"You still should have wanted to satisfy me," the witch shot back at him.

"I thought I WAS satisfying you, Hermione. I'm a wizard, not a bloody mind reader. But, since we're on the topic, there's some things you fall short on, too. You don't give my body the attention it needs either. You rarely even touch my cock, not to mention blow me."

Hermione's brows shot up.

"Why should I do that when you don't like to perform oral sex on me?" she asked him.

Ron made a face.

"It's not sanitary, and I don't like the taste, that's why I don't like to do it. My tool is on the outside. It can be properly washed. Witches are always leaking fluids," he stated flatly. "Men are cleaner."

Hermione frowned at him.

"So, why don't you get a man to suck you off, then!" Hermione hissed, jumping up and leaving the living room. This conversation was over.

Ron sighed. That hadn't gone well at all. But what did she expect? She was attacking his sexual prowess. He'd thought they were fine, and now she tells him they aren't? And that statement about letting a man suck him off. What the hell was that?

His mind turned back to the joke shop and the great blowjob he got.

Now, after what Hermione said, he was glad it happened. It was clear she was never going to see reason when it came to oral sex. Never.

But what was also clear to Ron was that there were real problems in their relationship, and he was going to have to make some changes, and soon. He couldn't let her go to sleep angry at him. At least she hadn't thrown him out. More than likely, she was expecting him to follow her and try to make up.

Ron thought that was a wise idea.

He followed her up the hall.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	19. Communication

**Chapter 19 ~ Communication**

Ron walked into Hermione's bedroom to find her sitting on the side of the bed, staring into space. He stood there a moment, then cleared his throat. Hermione's brown eyes shifted toward him, her face drawn.

"What are you doing?" he asked her softly.

Hermione stared at him.

"I was trying to imagine what it would be like without you in my life," she said quietly.

Stunned, Ron sat down on the bed next to her.

"No. Don't think about that. That's bad, Hermione! Bad!" he said to her, taking one of her hands.

"If I broke up with you, then I'd be severing my ties with your family," she said hollowly, her brows furrowed. "I've been so involved with your family, Ron, I've never made any friends of my own."

"Hermione, don't think about being without me. I can't imagine my life without you," Ron said to her. "It would be so empty, Hermione."

"No it wouldn't, Ron. You'd have your family," she said to him. "They'd fill in the void."

Ron's heart began to pound. Suddenly, he got off the bed and fell to his knees in front of Hermione.

"No, they couldn't fill the void, Hermione. Nothing could fill the hole being without you would leave behind. It's like, like you're the heart of me. I think if you left me, I'd never be able to feel anything for anyone else again. I love you, Hermione . . . I really do. Don't try to imagine a life without me in it. Please," he breathed passionately.

"There's so much wrong between us, Ron," Hermione said to him. "I don't know if we can fix it."

Ron held on to her hand, his blue eyes pained. .

"We can fix it, Hermione. Whatever's wrong, we can fix it. It's not over for us. I'm sorry what I said in the living room. It's hard to hear that I don't satisfy you . . . kind of makes a bloke feel like less than a man when his witch says something like that. But, I'll try harder, Hermione. I do appreciate you, it's just I'm so used to you being here for me. It's a little like mum, you know? Except for the sex. You're always here for me. But you're not my mum, you're you.

Hermione stared down at him.

"Hermione, you've got to believe I love you more than anyone else in the world. You know that question if your mum and your girlfriend were plunging to their deaths on a malfunctioning broom and you could only save one of them, who would you save?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'd save you," Ron said softly. "I really would."

Hermione didn't know whether to be flattered or horrified at Ron's declaration, but she'd love to see Molly's reaction to it. She smiled a little.

Heartened, Ron got back on the bed, sitting closer to her now.

"Hermione, I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm a git. A big git. But, I'm not stupid. You're the best thing that's ever come into my life and I don't want to lose you. I really don't Hermione. Listen, just give me another chance. I'll be better. I'll treat you better."

Hermione didn't look convinced.

"I'll be more patient, and make sure you want me before I try anything," Ron said, "I'll—I'll read some books on it. I'll talk to some other wizards to find out what they do to keep their witches happy—"

Bill seemed to keep Fleur happy, and she had to be a handful.

"And, and we can do some things that are exciting if you want. We can go—go to amusement parks—or – on some of the Ministry expeditions they have. You know, they need volunteers all the time to go into dangerous areas where there are trolls and dragons and other creatures to take censuses. That's exciting and dangerous—though not all the volunteers come back. But that's okay. We've fought Death Eaters. Trolls can't be that bad. We beat one in our first year, remember?"

Actually, Harry had beaten the troll, but Hermione appreciated the sentiment.

"Maybe we can do some traveling too," Ron said, "go to different places together. Would that be enough excitement for you, Hermione? If not, I could think up more things."

Hermione looked at Ron. Did he really mean these things or was he just trying to appease her.

"Hermione, please. Just give me a chance to make things right," Ron said to her. "We can put getting married on the backburner if you aren't ready right now. I just don't want to lose you. Say you'll give me another chance. Please."

Hermione looked into Ron's beautiful blue eyes. They were rather frightened. Her heart softened. Maybe she really did love him. She could have just been resentful that he was so thick all the time. But it seemed as if he'd finally seen the light.

"All right, Ron. We can try to fix things," she said softly.

Ron heaved a big sigh of relief, then gave her a small, rather chaste kiss.

"Thank you, Hermione," he breathed, relaxing. "I'll show you I can be what you need. I promise I will."

"We'll see, Ronald," Hermione replied, the use of his full name not lost on the wizard. Whenever she used "Ronald" she meant business.

Shortly afterwards, they retired. Ron made no attempt to have sex with Hermione. He determined he wouldn't make any moves on her until he had a plan to make as romantic an approach as possible. He had some major adjustments to make.

The couple lay side by side, lost in their own thoughts, Hermione wondering if Ron could indeed make a change. The ideas he proposed for adventure sounded very challenging. Maybe not as challenging as opening a tomb full of living severed limbs, but still enough to make her blood race.

The appeal of professor Snape's proposal was beginning to fade, although the physical aspects of being his companion were still very compelling. Could Ron ever become the kind of lover Snape was? Hermione didn't think so, but Ron had something in him that Snape didn't. Love. Ron loved her. Snape just wanted her. If Ron could become more loving and appreciative between the sheets, then they just might make it.

It had happened just as Snape feared, despite the blowjob he arranged for Ron. There was a connection between Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger that went deeper than what appeared on the surface. It was true that they both had dirty little secrets to keep from the other, but people kept secrets all the time. Which offense was worse was a matter of conjecture. Ron had received a blowjob from a stranger, and Hermione had sex with the Potions master on Christmas morning.

Both were in the wrong.

But, that aside, if Snape wanted to win Hermione over, he'd have to find a way to up the ante. Right now, the Quaffle was very much in Ron's pitch.

And Ron intended to keep it there.

* * *

Hermione woke up, immediately aware of two things. The first was Ron wasn't in the bed snoring beside her, and the second, that the smell of sausages permeated the air. She started to get out of the bed, when Ron appeared with a tray of food in his hands. There was a little vase with a flower sticking out of it in the middle.

"Don't get out of bed, or you'll ruin it," Ron said to Hermione, who stared at him in shock as he approach the bed. Ron making her breakfast? In bed? He hadn't done that in ages. She got back under the covers and sat up against the headboard as Ron deftly placed the tray over her lap, adjusting it, then stepped back and bowed, smiling at her.

"The first day of a new Ronald Weasley," he said to the witch as she looked down at the plate. He'd made sausages, fried eggs, beans, toast, fried bread, sliced tomatoes and black tea. It was a huge breakfast.

"Ron, I can't possibly eat all of this," she said to him.

"I'll help you," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Hermione noticed there were two forks and two knives. She gave him a smile, very pleased as she cut into a fried egg, the yolk thickened but runny.

Ron smiled too as she ate a bit of egg, the expression on her face blissful. Ron really could cook. He just didn't anymore.

"I'm going to cook dinner myself when I come over, Hermione, so you don't have to stop what you're doing to accommodate me. I'll bring the food, too," he told her as she scooped up some beans. She chewed, then swallowed them down, looking at him, her head a bit cocked. Finally, she responded.

"That's nice, Ron. I'll appreciate that. Sometimes I don't feel like cooking," she replied.

"Well, when you don't feel like it, just tell me. I'll cook or get some take-out," he told her.

Hermione gave him another smile, and continued eating, Ron finally joining in and the couple eventually feeding each other, laughing as they clumsily dropped food or shoved too much in each others' mouths.

It seemed Ron was off to a good start.

The couple spent a good week together, giving each other a little space during the day, because Ron still had to work. He spent every night at Hermione's flat, but they didn't have sex at all. They snogged a bit, but Ron didn't press for anything more. Hermione was rather glad about that, because her night with Snape was still fresh in her mind. She occasionally thought about it, becoming all warm inside at the thought of the sensual dark wizard. But still, this new, improved and patient Ron was very appealing. When Hermione did cook, he even helped with the dishes. They could have cleaned them magically, but it was more fun to do them the Muggle way. They had several water fights, Ron splashing suds on Hermione and Hermione flinging a full pan of dishwater on him.

It seemed things were going to be all right.

Ron had a heart to heart with his brother Bill about his problems with Hermione in bed.

"You're bloody lucky she didn't leave you ages ago, you selfish prat," Bill chastised him, before setting him straight on how to make love to witches in a way that would make them want to stay forever.

"Oral sex. Important. Important. Important," he told Ron, who made a face.

Bill scowled at him.

"Don't tell me you don't like eating pussy? What's wrong with you?" Bill said, an incredulous look on his face.

Ron shrugged.

"I just think it's dirty. I mean, my cock goes down there," he said lamely. "And it's all juicy."

"Oh, and having a strange witch salivate all over your cock isn't dirty?" Bill asked him pointedly. Ron's face took on a painful expression.

"Don't talk about that," he said softly. "I try not to think about it now. Hermione's all that matters, Bill."

"Ron, you've got to grow up. Everything about a witch is to be enjoyed. It's not just about how she feels when you're inside of her. It's how she tastes, smells, looks and sounds when you're with her period, before, during and after. Gods, Ron, it's like you're sitting at a banquet and only eating peas," Bill said, shaking his head. "You've got to get into Hermione. Think what she means to you and show it when you fuck her. Don't make it all about you. She feels pleasure too, or she should. You have to be creative and alternate. Kiss her body, not just her mouth. Ron, you're making the Weasley men look bad."

"You know, Bill, she doesn't like to blow me," Ron complained..

"Of course, when you won't give her any tongue down there. Why should she get on her knees for you when you won't spread her thighs for her?. Reciprocation is the keyword, Ron. If you want Hermione to give you that kind of attention, you're going to have to give her the same attention. Besides, a witch gets so hot after coming by mouth, that the sex is incredible. You can ride her until the nifflers come home and she'd be fine with it."

"But the taste," Ron whined.

Bill sighed.

"All right, there are ways to work around that. Flavored lubes."

"What?"

"Flavored lubricants. You can pick a flavor, lube her down and you won't really taste her, just the lube. Problem solved."

Ron looked thoughtful.

"I like banana," he said shortly.

Bill chuckled.

"An ape like you would," he replied, shaking his head.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	20. Hermione Returns to Hogwarts

**Chapter 20 ~ Hermione Returns to Hogwarts**

Hermione returned to Hogwarts on New Year's night, Ron accompanying her to the gates. He gave her a gentle kiss and a smile. They hadn't done anything since the night of his proposal, and Ron was handling it pretty well. In fact, he had really enjoyed being with Hermione for the past few days without any pressure to be the virile wizard he thought he had to be. At least in his mind he was virile. In Hermione's mind he had just been perpetually randy and selfish. But this sexless week actually made him feel closer to Hermione and gave him a chance to step back and see how lucky he truly was to have her.

Hermione was reminded just how fun and sweet Ron could be over the past few days, and her affection for him returned. They slept together every night, Ron spooned around her jealously, but never making an untoward move, although she could feel his erection through his pajama bottoms some nights. She almost initiated sex between them last night, but didn't do it. Ron had told her he had talked to Bill and next time they had sex, she'd see some changes in him. But he wouldn't tell her what kind of changes, and said he was working on "perfecting his technique."

Hermione hoped he wasn't practicing his "perfecting" on other witches, but of course he wasn't. But Bill made him buy some figs to practice his oral sex on. They did look a bit like a pussy with a clit, but brown. With Bill directing him, Ron dutifully practiced applying first the banana lube, then his tongue and other parts.

"Gods, don't lash it like you're wielding a whip, Ron! Go easy! Easy!" Bill corrected him. "She has nerve endings down there! Now, use your nose and chin . . . "

Fleur walked in on them one evening, Ron turning a deep crimson as she looked at the fig in his hand. Ron pulled his tongue in, but not quick enough so the French witch didn't see it. She looked at Bill and shook her head, then back at the embarrassed Ron.

"You are very lucky, Ronald," she said with a crooked smile. "You are learning the art at the feet of a Master."

She winked at Ron, blew Bill a sexy little kiss and left the room, her husband looking after her and unconsciously licking his lips. A Master, eh? He hadn't known she thought he was that good. He'd have to look into this a bit closer later.

"Lick up," he said to Ron, still looking after Fleur.

* * *

Hermione walked across the dark grounds of Hogwarts with her wand tip lit, the ghosts of the past rising up to meet her as she remembered the bodies that dotted the grounds long ago on the night of Voldemort's demise. It felt eerie and haunted out here at night, and she sped up, not being able to shake the feeling she wasn't alone.

She hurried up the castle steps and pulled on the castle doors. They were locked. When the doors of Hogwarts were locked, a simple Alohamora couldn't open them. Someone inside had to do let her in. Hermione pulled on a rope dangling next to the doors. She didn't hear anything when she did so. It was a silent summons from the outside but made quite a noise inside.

She stood there waiting for several minutes, then one of the doors slowly opened. A protuberant pale nose was the first thing she saw sticking out of it.

"Come in, Hermione," a silken voice purred.

It was Snape. He was dressed in his usual severe black robes, his lank hair, parted in the middle and curtaining his pale, impassive face.

A delicious little thrill shot through the witch's belly as the dark wizard slowly opened the door, his dark eyes resting on her. Snape showed no emotion as he looked down on her, so it was hard to read him as she entered. She could feel the warmth of his body as she passed within inches of it. She turned.

"Thank you for letting me in," she said to the wizard, who nodded slightly.

"I thought you might come back a bit earlier," Snape said softly, searching her face for any signs of discontent. "Have you squared things away with your—fiancée?"

Snape didn't pull any punches, did he? Hermione knew he wanted to hear some bad news about her and Ron because of what he wanted. Her free to travel the world with him. She began to walk through the entrance hall, Snape gliding beside her. They stopped by the marble staircase that led up to the first floor.

"Yes, I have, Severus. "We've . . . we've reached an understanding. I don't think I'm going to take you up on your offer," she said to him, thinking it would be better not to give him false hope. She had come to the conclusion that Ron was the wiser, safer bet.

Snape's dark eyes glittered at her.

"Don't be so hasty to make your decision, Hermione," he said to her tightly "Gryffindors always make decisions too quickly. You still have until the end of the year to realize the great mistake you're making, choosing to remain in your safe little cocoon, rather than breaking free to spread your wings and challenge the day. My offer still stands."

Hermione blinked up at him, their night together coming back to her. Snape's lips quirked slightly and his eyes became predatory. Maybe she needed a refresher.

"I don't have to use Legilimency to see your thoughts, Hermione," he said softly, moving a bit closer to her. "I made quite the impression on you Christmas morning. Perhaps, you would like to come to the dungeons for a private New Year's celebration. Just you—"

Snape's finger slowly traced her cheek, leaving a line of heat in its wake that nearly made Hermione tremble.

" –me and the sofa. There will be fireworks, of course."

Hermione blinked up at him, and he leaned closer as if to kiss her. Suddenly, she pulled back."

"Stop it. Christmas morning was a—a mistake. You took advantage of my situation," she said to him.

Snape pulled back, his face contorting.

"You wanted it," he hissed at her. "Don't stand here and lie to yourself, Hermione Granger. You loved everything I did to you. How I kissed you, how I touched you . . . and how I took you. You gave yourself over to me because I brought something out of you that had been hidden, repressed. I released you, just as I will do if you follow your heart and come with me.".

"I am following my heart," Hermione retorted, moving away from him and mounting the stairs.

"You are following your FEAR!" Snape snarled after her. "You allowed yourself to fall back into the self-made trap you've constructed around yourself. I imagine you and your boyfriend had a little 'heart-to-heart' and you threatened to leave him, which made him fall to his knees and beg you to stay, making all types of promises to 'change.' And of course, you fell for it. People don't change, Hermione. They start well, but they don't change. They're too selfish. Mr. Weasley could go through all the 'changes' in the world, but your situation will still be the same. You'll still be wasting your life staying here."

"I'm not going with you!" Hermione hissed back at him angrily, walking up the stairs now.

Snape was tempted to run up the stairs and drag her back down and force her to listen to reason. But that was no way to solve this problem.

"I am keeping the offer open," he called after her.

Hermione stopped and looked at him, deciding to tell him what she really thought.

"You're wasting your time. I've decided to live a safe, normal life with a man I really know. I don't know you, Severus. You frighten me."

"I stimulate you," he said softly. "If I do frighten you, it's because I make you feel unfamiliar emotions, desires—needs. I make you see who you're truly meant to be and that's what frightens you—the idea of daring to become the person you're meant to be, Hermione. I'm not going to give up on you that easily."

Hermione blinked down at him, her eyes becoming wet.

"Why? Why can't you just accept my choice and leave me alone?" she asked him, her voice quavering now.

"Because it is the wrong choice, and I want you with me," Snape replied silkily. "It isn't complicated, Hermione. I want you."

"Well, I don't want you! You, or anything you're offering me. You're the devil, Severus Snape, and if you aren't, you can still go to him!" Hermione snapped back at him, racing up the stairs and down the first floor corridor.

Snape watched her go, then walked around the stairs and down the dungeon stairwell, his robes billowing as he quickly walked back to his quarters. He could see his breath curling in the flickering torchlight as he walked. It was always cold in the dungeon corridor at this time of year.

So Hermione thought he was the devil, did she? Well, she had no idea. He meant what he said. He wasn't giving up on the witch. He'd find a way to make her see the mistake she was making choosing to remain in England with Ronald Weasley, never making another mark on the world. She was brilliant and passionate. What a waste it would be if she settled for such a mundane existence. She was meant for bigger, better things, not to be pigeon-holed into the kind of life common witches were satisfied with. Not her. Hermione Granger was as uncommon as they came. She simply was immersed in a life that was unsuitable for a witch of her caliber. Look at who she hung about with.

Ginny Weasley, who was married to Harry. Fleur Weasley, who was married to Bill. And Molly Weasley, who was the worst role model of all for a witch like Hermione. She was the polar opposite of what Hermione was supposed to be. But this is what she saw as "normal" and something to aspire to. Marrying and settling down. Pphttt! She could marry later if she was so set on it. She had two hundred blasted years.

Snape let himself into his office.

He didn't plan on giving up. There had to be some way to make Hermione see reason.

There just had to be.

The wizard let himself into his study and fixed himself a small Firewhiskey. He sat down in front of the fireplace and began to make his nefarious plans.

* * *

Hermione let herself into her quarters, feeling flustered and out of sorts. She hadn't been at Hogwarts ten minutes before Snape tried to seduce her, the cad. Who did he think he was, telling her she was making the wrong choice? He wasn't her father. He wasn't even her friend. He was a manipulative, self-seeking opportunist who would let the whole world come crashing down around her to get what he wanted. He could hire help. He didn't really need her. He just wanted her. Well, it wasn't going to work that way. And just because he knew his way around a woman's body didn't mean he could get what he wanted when he wanted. Some things were just unattainable.

Hermione began to undress and get ready for bed. She was too upset to go over her paperwork for the next term one final time, although she'd done it several times already. She pulled on her nightgown and climbed into bed, covering herself up in the thick winter blankets and staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. She tried to think about Ron, but Snape's pale face kept appearing in her thoughts.

New Year's celebration indeed. Fireworks. Hmph.

He'd say anything, just anything to try and work his way under her skin again. Sleeping with him had been a mistake. Ron deserved better than that. She wouldn't betray him again. Severus Snape was just, just a passing weakness. Sooner or later the Potions master would see that, figure out another option and leave her alone.

She had no idea how determined Severus Snape really was.

She'd find out.

* * *

Hermione and the rest of the staff attended a staff meeting the next morning. Students were returning, but classes wouldn't start until the following day. Snape was at the meeting too. The wizard was silent and brooding and looked as if he'd rather be anyplace else as Minerva droned on about what she expected to be accomplished this term, and the preparation for the upcoming OWLS.

Hermione tried to stay focused on Minerva, but Snape had sat in the same row as she did, except on the far end. It felt as her eyes had magnets in them and were drawn his way. She resisted the urge to look at him directly. The Potions master didn't even as much as glance in her direction.

"All teachers will be required to attend the Valentine's Day Dance in order to chaperone the students. Valentine's Day is the day when the most improprieties are committed by students and we must focus on protecting them from themselves. Severus, I expect you to brew a few gallons of Morning After potion for those students who manage to slip by us," Minerva directed.

Snape nodded, sighing inwardly. Why not just let them all shag their brains out and add the potion to their meals the next day? That way, he wouldn't have to attend the blasted dance at all. He looked at Minerva and shook his head slightly at the witch's constant attempts to thwart nature. If she had her way, every student would arbitrarily have Chastity charms cast on them straight through their seventh year.

Minerva was just wrapping up the meeting when a knock sounded on the staff room door.

"Come in," Minerva called.

In walked a wizard in a little cap, carrying a bouquet of red roses. Snape's nose wrinkled unpleasantly as the sweet stench washed over him.

"I have a delivery for Miss Hermione Granger," the wizard announced. "I was told she was here."

"I'm Hermione," Hermione said, standing up and walking down the row, sliding past Severus, who looked up at her as she passed, his eyes narrowed.

All the witches were exclaiming as she took the flowers and read the card.

"Have a good term. Love, Ron."

"Awww," she said with a smile as the witches all gathered around her, sniffing the roses.

"How sweet," Pomona Sprout gushed.

"Your boyfriend must be in the doghouse," Madam Hooch sniffed.

"Actually he's not. He sent me these just to send them," Hermione said. "The note says 'have a good term.'"

The witches started in again, saying how thoughtful Ron was.

Snape thought he was going to be sick. So, Weasley was doing the whole roses and candy thing. Disgustingly juvenile, and, Snape hated to think it, effective. Hermione was gushing over the blasted flowers as if she'd never seen roses before.

"Minerva," he called over to the Headmistress, who was exclaiming with the rest of the witches. "Are we done with the meeting?"

"Oh, yes. Of course, Severus. The meeting is closed," she replied, bending a rose to her nose.

Snape stood up and gingerly navigated the clutch of cackling witches. His dark eyes met Hermione's for a moment, and the little minx had the nerve to look smug, as if to say, "See how wonderful Ron is?"

Snape snorted in distaste and departed the staff room. Students coming from a late breakfast quickly got out of the wizard's way as he stalked toward the dungeon entrance.

He'd sent her roses, and she fell for it. Why were witches so stuck on receiving flowers? Didn't they really know what they stood for? Flowers were little more than aroused plants ready to mate, or in their case, be pollinated. Spread petals represented spread thighs. Getting flowers from a wizard wasn't about romance. It was about sex, plain and simple.

He let himself into his office, then walked down a short corridor, through the classroom, past his potions store and into his lab. He took out several cauldrons and set them up. He might as well get started on the Morning After potion immediately. It would give him something other to do than brood over Ron's little romantic gesture. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do about the wizard.

Apparently, the blow job hadn't been enough to make Ron ruin his relationship with Hermione. Snape had been sure he'd say or do something to give himself away or make Hermione break up with him by trying to make her recreate his little tryst. Apparently, the wizard was smarter than that, damn it. Snape Scourgified the cauldrons, then retrieved a large bottle of base to add to each of them, thinking all the while.

Madam Simpers had told him Ron attempted to find out more about the prostitute that blew him at the time, so he must have been quite smitten before returning to his senses. He had no idea who the woman was.

Hm.

A very wicked idea began to percolate in Snape's brain as he poured the thick liquid into each cauldron, measuring the amount by eye.

He was going to have to talk to Natasha again. He had a plan, not as blatant as his first attempt at making Ron screw up, but definitely more devious. It would probably cost a pretty Galleon, but gaining Hermione would be worth it.

Snape made plans to visit the brothel after supper. There was no time to waste. He needed to drive a wedge between Hermione and Ron as soon as possible.

The Potions master hoped Natasha could make this happen. No doubt, if paid enough—she would.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	21. Oh, Those Nefarious Plans

**Chapter 21 ~ Oh, Those Nefarious Plans**

"Oh, hell no, Bill!" Ron exclaimed as he looked at what his big brother had come up with to further perfect his technique. They were downstairs in a small room in the cellar. It was securely warded from Fleur's snooping, who was out shopping anyway.

Bill smiled at Ron's consternation.

"If you were still in Hogwarts, you would have loved this," Bill said. His face was badly scarred because of Fenrir Greyback's attack on him, but you didn't notice them after a while.

"Well, I'm not in Hogwarts. This is just—just sick, Bill."

"Ron, do you want to perfect your technique or not?" his brother asked him.

Ron looked at the thing.

"Of course I do, but you've already told me what to do, Bill. I don't need this," Ron whined.

"Telling is not doing. You're only going to practice touching and kissing. You don't have to shag it," Bill told him. "It's a basic model."

Ron looked at the ridiculous blow up doll lying on its back in a little twin-sized bed. It didn't even look like a woman. It looked like a balloon. It had to be the cheapest one made. The face was painted on, with round, cartoon-like eyes and a nose, ridiculous synthetic blonde hair and a round open mouth-hole. The breasts looked like round balls with dark pink tips on them. At the doll's apex, a rug-like triangular patch of blonde fur was glued to look like pubic hair. The thighs were parted, and there was a slit between them. It was bloody awful.

"A basic model of what?" Ron hissed, his nostrils flared. "You can't really expect me to treat that thing like it's Hermione, Bill."

"Do you want to make a good showing or not, Ron? Roses and 'quality time' are all right, but when the wands are down, you're going to have to 'show and prove.' I'm tired of being the only married male Weasley offspring. Mum's constantly pressuring me for grandchildren. I don't want you to lose Hermione because if you marry her, it'll take some of the weight off me."

So, Bill had selfish motives. And here Ron thought he was helping out of the goodness of his heart, the bastard.

"Well, we've put it on the backburner for now, Bill. I don't think we'll be getting married anytime soon," Ron informed him. "But Ginny's married—doesn't that help with mum a bit?"

Bill scowled and shook his head.

"Ginny and Harry have a 'plan," he grumbled. "They're going to work on having children next year. Mum got an oath out of them, so she's satisfied on that front. Fleur won't commit to a time frame. So . . . mum stays on me. But as long as you have a good marriage prospect, I'll be satisfied with that."

Bill looked rather wistful.

"Too bad Percy ruined his chances with Penelope. I'm sure they would have jumped the broom by now. Good thing you didn't make his mistake," Bill added.

Percy and Penelope had been an item since Hogwarts. But Percy had an "encounter" one night after getting rather sloshed at the Three Broomsticks, and came clean to Penelope at their flat the very next day. She listened, considered . . . then pulled out her wand . . .

When Percy woke up, she was gone. He tried his best to get her to forgive him, but she wanted nothing more to do with him. He still insisted he did the right thing by telling her the truth.

"Our life together would have been based on a lie," he told his disbelieving brothers.

Percy had such a picky, critical nature and high opinion of himself that he hadn't managed to get another witch yet. He drove most of them crazy within ten minutes of starting a conversation, regaling them with tales and trivia about his favorite subject: him.

His brothers tried to help him out, they truly did, but Percy would give them a high-handed look and say: "I don't need any advice from you Neanderthals."

George told him he'd better take some advice or he wouldn't be swinging his club anytime soon. But Percy remained adamant that he'd find a witch of his own on his own.

Good luck with that.

"Now, come on, Ron. Let's see what you have. Get down there and pretend you're in bed with Hermione . . . "

Ron sighed, then laid down in the bed next to the stupid doll.

"What I don't do for that witch," he groused as Bill looked on.

"Don't forget the lube," he advised.

* * *

Odessa was in her room at the brothel, lying on the bed and reading a celebrity wizard magazine. She was dressed in a short red nightie and thong, and chewing gum. She was done with her duties for the day and was looking forward to a bit of "me" time after being groped, fondled and fucked by wizards of all ages. The good thing was, most of them were quick. She made sure they were by being as sexy as possible.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Go away," Odessa called out. "I'm off duty."

"Madam Natasha said I might have a word with you, Miss Divine. It doesn't involve sex," a silken voice purred through the door. It was a nice voice.

Odessa rolled her eyes. Some of the kinkiest things she'd ever done didn't involve sex.

"What does it involve?" she called back, popping her gum.

"A bit of extra money," the voice replied. "You'll get to keep the whole of what you earn. I've already paid Madam Natasha for your time. Anything you do for me, you'll be paid for."

Odessa sat up now, scowling.

"What? She's contracted me out?" Odessa fumed.

"In a manner of speaking, but not as a prostitute. I have something else in mind. Very easy work for good pay. May I come in and explain?"

Whoever that was, he had a very sexy voice. Odessa slid out of the bed and put on her housecoat and slippers.

"All right, but you'd better not try anything. As I said, I'm off duty," she said again, picking her wand up off the nightstand and approaching the door. She opened it and looked into the gaunt, pale visage of the Potions master. Her eyes drifted over him. Lank hair, dark eyes, huge nose, cruel mouth, stark, severe robes.

He looked like a sadist. Snape walked into the room backing the witch up, his eyes slightly narrowed as they shifted about, taking in the décor. There were hanging beads, candles, incense, red silk sheets on the four-poster bed and a large mirror on the ceiling. His black eyes shifted back to Odessa, then down to the wand she was holding in her hand. His lips tightened as he looked up at her again.

"Sit down, Miss Divine," he said in a low, commanding voice.

Odessa backed up and sat down on her bed wordlessly. Even though she had her wand, there was something about this wizard that scared her. He looked familiar for some reason, but she couldn't place the face. She hadn't attended Hogwarts.

"I've already paid good Galleons for you," Snape said, walking over to her dresser and inspecting what rested on it. Nail polish, combs, brushes, make-up, and a little coin box. He idly picked up an earring and studied it before putting it back down. Costume jewelry.

If Odessa felt any anger at him picking over her things, she didn't say anything as Snape turned back around and addressed her.

"Natasha assured me you would follow my instructions to the letter, or else, you will lose your position here," he told the prostitute as he pulled a wooden chair from the wall, placed it in front of her and sat down, leaning forward. Odessa stared at him. He was an ugly wizard, but there was something fascinating in the way he spoke and moved.

"I have a very simple assignment for you, one that will take several weeks. But you will have plenty of time to practice your profession, but I will be your primary client. You will occasionally receive instructions by owl from me, instructing you to go to a certain place and be seen. That is basically all you will have to do for the duration of our association. There may be times you will have to speak, but I will give you instructions how to do it. Under no circumstances are you ever to insinuate you are a prostitute. That fact about you is to remain hidden. You are to be careful coming and going, and to protect yourself from being followed at all costs. You will receive payment on the day you complete the assignment."

Odessa studied him.

"And there is no sex involved?" she asked him.

"No. No sex. We've tried that before and it didn't work. You remember the redheaded wizard you blew in the joke shop on Christmas day?" Snape asked her.

Did she? He had such a hair trigger she had to choke his cock about ten times to make him last, and then practically run away from him afterwards.

Odessa simply nodded.

"He's going to be your mark. What you are supposed to do is let him see you from time to time, but not engage him in any manner. If he goes for you, you make a getaway. That's all I want for the time being. For him to see you in different places. It's easy money," Snape said softly. "Any extraneous costs you have to cover in the process will be returned to you. "

"What's the reason for it?" Odessa asked. "If I'm not supposed to shag him?"

"The reason, Miss Divine, is to drive him mad with curiosity," the wizard replied. "The two of you shared an intimate moment . . . he doesn't know who you are. Seeing you again may throw him off his game . . . "

"And why do you want that?" she asked him.

Snape's face contorted.

"You ask too many questions, witch. Just do what I tell you to do and let me worry about my motivations," Snape snarled at her, his eyes hardening.

Odessa swallowed. He certainly seemed to get angry quickly.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Snape stood up, reached in his pocket and tossed two Galleons on the bed.

"For your time," he sneered at her, then exited the room without another word, his robes billowing behind him.

Odessa picked up the coins and looked after the wizard. She stood up, walked over and closed the door behind him.

"I bet he takes a branding iron to a witch before he fucks her," she said to herself as she deposited the coins in her little charmed bank on the dresser.

Well, he was right about one thing. It was easy money.

* * *

Snape had also come up with another scheme, one he hoped he'd be able to get Minerva's assistance with. Her tendency to be thrifty and tight-fisted with the school budget money would be very helpful. He approached her that very night.

"Headmistress, I must inform you that the student potions stores are out of Dragonsbane," he purred at the witch, who looked horrified.

"Again, Severus? Dragonsbane is the most expensive ingredient the students use! How much of it do you need?" she asked him with a frown.

"About five bushels," he told her, knowing she was going to have a coronary.

Of course, Minerva didn't. But she looked very close to it as she mentally calculated the cost.

"Oh my gods, Severus. That's going to take the surplus far below what it should be," she complained.

"Of course, I could adjust the syllabus, but then the students wouldn't be properly prepared, especially those taking their OWLS this year," Snape said softly.

Minerva quailed. Hogwarts always provide a premiere education. It was a point of pride. There was no skimping where the students were concerned.

"No, we couldn't possibly do that, Severus," she said resignedly. "I'm just going to have to take the money out of the budget. It's a shame really. There were some outings I wanted to arrange for a few of the younger students. It won't be possible now."

Snape sat there letting Minerva's disappointment settle in for a moment, then said, "I might have a solution that won't cost Hogwarts a Knut, Minerva."

The witch looked up from her desk and adjusted her glasses.

"What is it, Severus?"

He told her.

"That sounds rather dangerous," she said.

"I've harvested Dragonsbane before, Minerva. I would just need an assistant. Someone well-versed in Charms to back me up, provide a bit of extra protection if necessary," Snape said quietly.

Minerva sat there a moment, thinking.

"Miss Granger is our Charms Mistress, and quite exemplary with charms and spells. She could accompany you, Severus," the Headmistress said.

Snape looked disgusted.

"Miss Granger? You must be joking," he said flatly, causing Minerva to bristle. "More than likely the witch would turn tail and flee the moment she spied a waft of smoke."

Minerva frowned. This was Hermione he was talking about, the pride of Hogwarts.

"Lest you forget, Severus, Hermione has faced many dangers in her lifetime and was tantamount in the destruction of the Dark Lord. She certainly can face a few dragons. She will accompany you," the witch said with finality as Severus rolled his eyes.

"As you say, Headmistress," he sighed with resignation.

That had been too easy.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	22. Nefarious Plans Continue

**Chapter 22 ~ Nefarious Plans Continue**

Fleur decided she wanted to get in on the act and told Bill she would teach Ron about how to actually fuck, although she didn't exactly say it that way. Still, Bill's reaction was less than pleased.

"What!" Bill spluttered. He'd been drinking tea when she made the announcement.

"I will show him how he should move," Fleur told him, pumping her pelvis a little and smiling at him. She was wearing a rather tight little blue blouse and stretchy jeans, her blue eyes twinkling and her silvery-blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Fleur was part Veela, and her effect on any male in the vicinity was always interesting.

Too interesting as far as Bill was concerned. Fleur only had eyes for "her Bill" as she called him, but he was extremely jealous of her.

"No you won't," Bill growled at his wife, shocked. "Brotherly love only goes so far, Fleur . . ."

She slapped him on the shoulder.

"You can watch," she said to him naughtily.

Bill stared at Fleur as if he'd never seen her before.

"If you think I'm going to stand by and watch Ron shag you, Fleur, you're bloody insane!"

Fleur scowled at him prettily, her hands resting on her hips.

"You are the one who is insane if you think I would fuck your brother! I said I would only teach him how to move! How dare you think anything else!"

Before Bill could react, Fleur stepped for and slapped him in the face, her eyes flashing.

Bill's eyes began to glitter. Fleur had a thing for slapping him, and he had a thing for being slapped. It served as foreplay and was part of his hot-tempered wife's French mystique. He slowly and menacingly rose from the chair, pushing it out of the way roughly.

"You slapped me," he growled.

"You deserved it, you beast!" Fleur shot back at him. "How could you even form those words . . ."

"Beast? I'll show you a beast, you little French hellion," Bill said in a low voice, easing forward, a look of lust on his face.

Fleur always turned him on when she got physical, and he'd get physical right back although he didn't strike her in the same manner she struck him in these situations. He much preferred her horizontal and naked when he was on "the attack."

Fleur began to back up and her husband lunged at her. She ducked, let out a shriek and ran from the kitchen, Bill in hot pursuit. She wore a rather crooked smile as she ran.

She knew what she'd get when he caught her.

She always knew.

That was the fun of it.

* * *

"Fleur is going to what?" Ron said incredulously as he, Bill and Fleur stood in the small room in the cellar. Ron was sitting in a small folding chair. The twin bed was there, but the blow-up doll was gone.

"I am going to teach you how to move inside a woman," Fleur said in her throaty voice, walking toward Ron slowly and sexily. She was dressed in baby blue robes that fell just right on her, her hair loose and flowing. She looked more Veela than human as she moved toward Ron.

Bill leaned back against a work table, his arms folded and watched his wife approach Ron. Gods, she was beautiful. During "payback" Fleur told him exactly what she was going to do to show Ron the ropes, and after laughing, he agreed.

Ron's blue eyes shifted to Bill. Fleur was very sexy and Ron used to have serious wood for her when he first saw her at Hogwarts, even asking her to a dance. She turned him down cold, of course. This was before he and Hermione were a real item.

"Bill, are you all right with this?" Ron asked, swallowing as Fleur trailed one finger around his throat, walking around him.

"Yep. But just remember she's my wife, Ron," Bill replied, his face studiously neutral as Fleur moved in front of Ron and bent slightly, running her soft hand over his cheek slowly as he looked up at her and swallowed again.

"You must learn how to stroke a woman, Ronald. This is very important in the lovemaking," she said softly. "Do you want me to teach you how you should move?"

"Yesssss," Ron said dreamily. Fleur gave him a perfect smile, then cut her eyes over to Bill, who stared back at her but didn't say a word. She looked back at Ron.

"Roll up the sleeve of your right arm, Ronald," she breathed.

Ron had no idea what rolling up his sleeve had to do stroking a witch, but he did as Fleur asked. He didn't take his eyes off her as she watched him. When his sleeve was rolled up, Fleur gently grasped his wrist, turning his arm over so his hand was palm up. Her touch was somewhat electric, her Veela magic coming into play.

"Oh, such a strong forearm, Ronald Weasley," Fleur purred as she rested her knuckles against his skin and slowly began to move it up and down his skin, caressing it.

"Does that feel nice, Ronald Weasley?" she asked him, her fluid arm motion reminding Ron of a hand job. The contact was very sensual. Ron could feel it down to his toes.

"Yes. Yes, it does, Fleur," he agreed, feeling himself becoming aroused.

"Good," she breathed, before suddenly digging her knuckles into Ron's skin and speeding up, giving him a good, hard friction burn, his forearm turning red as he yelled and tried to break away. It took a surprising amount of strength.

"Ow!" he cried, finally wrestling his arm away from Fleur and scowling at her as Bill cracked up.

"That doesn't feel so nice, does it? It does not feel nice inside a woman either," Fleur told him as Ron rubbed his burned forearm. "Remember that and you will be good."

Fleur turned around and walked out of the small room, Bill chuckling after her. She certainly knew how to get her point across. He looked at Ron, who was still rubbing his arm.

"That didn't go anything like I hoped it would," Ron groused as a renewed stream of laughter came from Bill.

* * *

Minerva sat behind the desk in her office, drumming her fingers on the desktop as Hermione took a seat in the comfortable armchair facing her. It was lunch hour and her class had just let out when she received the summons, golden words requesting her appearance floating in the air before her, then fading away.

She sat down and looked at the Headmistress curiously. She had no idea what she wanted to talk about.

"Thank you for coming, Hermione," Minerva said briskly. "The reason I've called you here is because I have an assignment for you, one that will take you off the grounds of Hogwarts overnight."

Hermione stared at her. An assignment?

"What kind of assignment, Headmistress?" she inquired.

"It is a service for the school. As you know, I keep tight control over the budget and try to save Galleons any way I can so we can provide the little extras that make an education at Hogwarts so exemplary," Minerva explained.

Hermione nodded, wishing she'd just get to the point.

"There is a shortage in materials that can cost the school a great amount of money if purchased. This would negatively affect the plans I've made for several outings for first, second and third years for the last two quarters. Yet, we can save the entire amount if these materials were collected rather than purchased. Professor Snape has experience in gathering Dragonsbane, but it is rather dangerous and I want you to go along with him to provide extra protection if needed."

Hermione scowled.

"What? Go with Professor Snape?" she repeated.

Minerva nodded.

"Yes. As an employee of Hogwarts duty requires you give any service to the school deemed necessary," the Headmistress said pointedly.

"I know that," Hermione said, still scowling. "I bet he asked for me to accompany him, didn't he?"

Hermione knew the Potions master had blatantly set this situation up to get her alone in his company, the sneaky, conniving bastard. She was rather surprised by Minerva's answer.

"Actually, no, he didn't. It was my suggestion. In fact, he insinuated he didn't want you along. I believe he said something about you running away from the first waft of smoke you saw. He doesn't appear to have much faith in you, although I know you are more than up to the challenge," Minerva replied. "Besides, hiring an assistant would require pay, and that is what I am trying to avoid. You are on salary so there is no extra expenditure. So, you will accompany him this weekend. I suggest you speak to him as soon as possible to hash out the details."

Hermione was rather stunned by this. He didn't want her along? That couldn't be true. Of course he wanted her to come with him. He had already said he knew she was courageous and someone he could trust to back him up. Something was rotten at Hogwarts, and the stench was coming directly from the dungeon area.

Hermione knew it would be a waste of time to try and get out of the assignment. Minerva had spoken. She wasn't much like Albus, who used to reason with his teachers and hear them out. Minerva's nickname among the staff was the "Velvet Dictator." She spoke softly but carried a big wand. When she wanted something done, she brooked no opposition.

"Very well, Headmistress. I'll talk to him," she said.

"Good," Minerva replied, then said in a low voice as if someone could overhear her. "Show that blasted Slytherin that a Gryffindor can face anything he can, Hermione, and with dispatch. I don't like his attitude at all."

"I will, Headmistress," Hermione replied, slightly amused that Minerva still went "house" when confronted by the possibility of being bested by Slytherin. She had to have graduated a hundred years ago. Well, maybe not that long, but still . . .

Hermione departed Minerva's office, frowning. She had another two classes after lunch. She'd make arrangements to see Severus after supper. Then she'd find out what was what.

* * *

Hermione entered the Great Hall through the staff entrance and walked along the dais. She stopped beside professor Snape, who was studiously eating a bowl of soup. He didn't look up although he was aware of her standing there.

"Is there a reason you are perched behind me like a vulture?" he asked her in a low voice.

Hermione reddened.

"The Headmistress told me about our 'assignment," Hermione said, making the word 'assignment' ring with distaste. "I want to come see you after supper to discuss the details."

"If you must," Snape said coldly, still not looking at her.

"I wish I didn't," she snapped at him, then stalked down the dais and took a seat next to Trelawney, ordering her meal.

Snape smirked slightly at her apparent outrage at having to accompany him. It was going to be interesting and he'd be able to get the measure of her in a dangerous situation. Hopefully, she still had that courageous heart. He might find that she wasn't the witch she once was, and that the settling she had done thus far had actually settled in her psyche and she wouldn't be much good to him. It would be a real shame if that were the case, especially since they were so physically compatible. Now that he had experienced the witch, it was a given that they would be lovers if she agreed to go with him.

He was getting ahead of himself. There were quite a few obstacles he had to surmount in order to win Hermione. He hoped this mini-adventure would whet her appetite for more. One thing was for certain . . . she would find collecting Dragonsbane very exciting.

Especially the way he did it.

Suddenly, the Great Hall was filled with an influx of owls. It was the post. The students all chattered and caught their deliveries. A rather small owl carrying a rather large red heart, flew toward Hermione and let the heart fall in front of her, winging off quickly.

Snape scowled as she read the little card attached.

"Sweets for the sweet. Love Ron."

Hermione opened the heart. Of course it was filled with assorted chocolates. She smiled as Trelawney and the other witches cackled over Ron again. He was the sweetest wizard. She shared them happily.

"Bribery," Snape snarled to himself as he departed the Great Hall. "He's buying her with . . . with chocolates. Candy. Pphttt. It's fattening, doesn't she know that? Not good for her figure. If he really cared, he'd send her something sensible. But Hermione's as addle-brained as any other witch when it comes to—ugh—romance. It's difficult to believe so logical and bright a mind can become completely befuddled by a box of confectionaries. It's disgusting."

But as Snape billowed toward the Potions classroom, he knew Ron had scored more points with Hermione by these simple little gestures. She believed herself in love with Ronald Weasley. Snape wasn't sure if she was, but the wizard had an emotional hold on the witch that he couldn't compete with at this point in time. Snape had issues with expressing emotion. He had no problems with showing anger, jealousy, hatred, possessiveness, disgust and other baser forms of human expression. It was the higher emotions he had a problem with. Trust, kindness, care and love weren't a working part of his experience and it was supremely difficult to give to another what one never truly possessed himself

There was a time Snape felt these things, very long ago, but they were torn from him after the object of his affections abandoned him. The pain of losing her tore at his soul, and to protect himself, he hardened, casting away everything that made him vulnerable to that kind of paralyzing pain again. But then, he spent many years of his life a prisoner of those dead feelings. Despite becoming unfeeling, he still harbored one very deep set emotion that dug its claws into his soul and clung to him like a leech. An emotion it took years of pain and sacrifice to finally pry away.

Guilt

Now he didn't even have that to keep him going. All he had was a dream that he wanted above all else. Challenge, adventure, danger and riches were calling to him. Hopefully, they would fulfill him.

But Severus Tobias Snape was a man, and no man was an island. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he wanted, craved companionship. This clashed with his basic make-up and he wouldn't allow such a thought to rise to the fore. He'd been hurt before by a woman, and swore it would never happen again. He would never invest again in such a painful venture.

Snape told himself he wanted Hermione for her skills and for the pleasure he could get from her in the process. But it was more than that, much more.

He would be much better off if he just admitted it to himself. But, he couldn't, and since he couldn't, he relied on trickery, deceit and manipulation to try and acquire what he wanted without opening up those painful wounds again. He was trying to acquire Hermione without investing himself, without becoming vulnerable, without—feeling.

Poor Severus. Despite all of his knowledge, cunning and resourcefulness, despite all of his sacrifice and selfless suffering, he had failed to grasp the one immutable truth of human existence; just as Voldemort did . . .

Everyone needs Love.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	23. Arrangements and Something More

**Chapter 23 ~ Arrangements and Something More**

Hermione knocked on Snape's office door at precisely seven-thirty. She heard movement inside, then the door cracked slightly, Snape's nose once again making an appearance, followed by his pale face as he opened the door a bit wider. His black eyes shifted about warily before resting on her. Hermione frowned up at him.

"Why are you looking around like that?" she asked as the wizard widened the door.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't being trailed by cherubs scattering pink hearts about, courtesy of your beau," Snape replied snidely, letting her in.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded as the wizard closed the door and glided by her, returning to his seat behind his desk. He sat down and studied her as she took a seat in the rickety chair before his desk.

He ran his forefinger over his thin lips for a moment then said, "I am referring to the constant influx of flowers and candy," the Potions master sneered. "I imagine fluttering cherubs would be the next nauseating installment of Mr. Weasley's juvenile wooing technique."

"Ron's gifts are sweet!" Hermione declared.

"They're a joke," Snape snapped back at her. "An obvious attempt to bribe your gullible female insensibilities and you're falling for it like a brainless little twit."

Hermione blinked at him.

"You sound jealous," she said.

Snape spluttered.

"Jealous? I am not—jealous! I am simply commenting on how easily you are manipulated by . . . trivialities. Not an endearing trait, I assure you," the wizard hissed. "Jealous. You're mad. I haven't a jealous bone in my body."

Hermione just stared at him quietly until the wizard shifted uncomfortably.

"Stop staring at me!" he snarled at her, slamming his fist on his desk in anger. "Now, enough of this nonsense about you and your unimaginative beau. We are going to collect Dragonsbane this weekend. What do you know about it?"

"Dragonsbane, when brewed properly, works as a dragon repellent. However, in its natural state, it attracts dragons like catnip attracts cats. Wherever there's Dragonsbane, there's bound to be dragons," Hermione told him.

"Good to see you've retained something in your skull despite your dim-witted associations," Snape muttered. "Well, you know the basics. We will leave Saturday night for the Winged Ridges. That is an area where both dragons and Dragonsbane abound. The herb grows in caves. The dragons gather there to sleep and be near the plants. We will access the plants while they are asleep. Do you know the Asbestos spell?"

"Yes."

"The Firestop spell?"

"Yes"

"The Cold Dome spell?"

Of course she knew those spells, and others to protect from flame. She was a Charms mistress after all.

"Yes," she said with a hint of exasperation. "I know all of those and then some. I'm not a student after all."

"Good," Snape said, dismissing her defensiveness. "I hope you are aware that although those spells will protect us from the flame, they will not hold up against a physical attack by a dragon. Very little hurts a dragon once it's chosen its prey. The scales of a dragon repel most magic, since it is a creature born of magic."

"So what will we do if the dragons wake up and attack?" Hermione asked him.

"Most likely die," the Potions master replied, his dark eyes resting on her to see her reaction. At least she had the grace to look frightened.

"What, you mean you don't have any contingency plan in case they wake up?" she asked him incredulously. "No way to escape?"

"I might have a little something to protect us," the wizard said, "if I'm fast enough. Dragons chomp quite quickly. The best thing is to hope they don't wake up. I'm bringing a Glow-bird with us, just in case, to draw their flame."

A Glow-bird was a canary-like creature that gave off a very bright light when in flight. It was a night bird, and was often mistaken for a shooting star when it streaked across the night sky.

"That isn't a very reassuring plan," Hermione said to the wizard.

"I didn't ask you to accompany me," Snape snapped at her. "But do you really think I would go on a mission that I might not return from?"

Hermione frowned at him.

"Yes, I do. You did it for years when you served as a spy for the Order," she retorted.

Snape jaw tightened.

"I'm not the same man," he said softly, his eyes becoming unreadable as he remembered his long service and even longer penance. At times, he hoped death would take him and spare him the tortures he went through to protect Lily's son. He did other things for Albus Dumbledore, but it all came back to protecting Harry, who was meant to be sacrificed anyway. Dumbledore had used them both, reinforcing Snape's belief that trust in anyone was overrated and costly.

Suddenly his dark eyes snapped up at her.

"You don't have to go with me. I won't say a word to Minerva," the wizard said coldly. "Only you and I will know you weren't up to the task."

There was something condescending in the way Snape spoke that rankled Hermione. He didn't say anything insulting, but she could see it in his eyes. Not disappointment actually, more like—disgust. He didn't think she wasn't "up to the task." He thought she was a coward. And he was giving her a coward's way out.

Severus Snape wasn't the only person in the world who hated to be called a coward, verbally or not.

"I've been assigned to help you, and I'll help you. It's for the school after all," she replied tightly.

"Whether or not you'll actually help me is yet to be seen," Snape said, his eyes hard. "This is going to be very challenging, Hermione. I need to be focused. I can't be focused if I have to worry about you turning tail at the worst possible moment. It would be better to go alone than to be accompanied by someone who's heart isn't in the task."

Hermione had enough of this.

"Severus, a little more than a week ago you told me you believed I had the courage and ability to be your companion in your search for rare potions. Now, you speak to me as if I'm a liability or something. As if I don't have what it takes."

"Little more than a week ago, you were a witch willing to at least consider another path for your life, one more suitable for someone of your abilities and potential. Little more than a week ago, I recognized the young woman of earlier times, inquisitive, courageous, willing to be tried by the fire. Today—that young woman is all but dead. I feel as if I'm staring at a living corpse, all the life and spirit that I—admired, gone. And I have to take this shuffling caricature of the witch I knew with me into the fray, someone who has no other goal in life than to be safely wrapped in monotony, satisfied with a drone-like job, a husband and a house a stone's throw from her in-laws. If I speak to you as if you are a liability Hermione, it's because I believe, based on what you've told me concerning your hasty decision, that you are a liability and unsuited for this task. Undoubtedly, you don't have what it takes. I make you an offer that could make your life more meaningful and you turn away from it for flowers, candy and sweet, empty words."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, anger rising inside her.

"You have no idea what it is you're asking of me, Severus. To you, it's a simple matter of my leaving everything behind and following you into a life of adventure. It isn't that simple. I have ties here, friends here. People that care about me, someone who loves me. You have none of those things, so think they're all meaningless. But they aren't meaningless, Severus. Anyone who had a heart would know that."

Snape simply looked at her with a rather tired expression as she continued.

"I have no idea what kind of man you are, Severus. I know how you are in intimate situations—but no matter how—how compelling you are in that area, it's no indication of your true character. You're volatile, excitable and violent, Severus. I've seen it for myself. How do I know if once I am alone with you and have to count on you, that you won't mistreat me? That you won't abuse me or injure me? I know Ron, and although he aggravates me from time to time, I know he would never, ever strike me. I don't know that about you. You—you really do frighten me. You're a brilliant man, a talented Potions master and a hero, but you seem unstable."

Now the Potions master's eyes glittered at her.

Hermione's voice became softer now as she continued.

"Perhaps you're the way you are because of all the suffering you've gone through. You did the wizarding world a great service, Severus, but what was the cost of it? You are the coldest, most unfeeling man I have ever met. Yes, you have an extraordinary sense of duty but that isn't enough when you are so volatile. There is nothing about you that makes me feel safe or protected, or makes me believe that you will actually care what happens to me once we are out in the world. How do I know I won't be injured and you'll just—just leave me someplace because I can no longer be of assistance to you? So you see, Severus, it's not just a matter of me settling for the safe and familiar. It's a matter of making the right choices based on what I know. As I said, I know next to nothing about you as a person except that you are brilliant and blow up easily at the least provocation, in private. You have a calm façade in public, but I know that's not how you really are, and it's frightening. I'd be a fool to leave all I know and love to travel around the world with an unstable wizard, Severus. If there is fear involved, you are the reason for it."

Hermione had a damn good argument for refusing him. A damn good one, one he had never even considered in his selfish plans. But she didn't have to fear him. He had to let her know that.

"I would never strike you," Snape said in a low, haunted voice. "I would never abandon you. If you decided to accompany me, I will know you've made a commitment and a sacrifice to help me live my dream, Hermione. No one—no one has ever committed to me in anything. Only made promises—broken, painful promises that never materialized."

Snape hesitated. He hadn't meant to go here, to tell her these things, but she was right. She knew nothing about him but was on the surface, and his surface was armored. If he hoped to persuade her to change her mind, he had to give her something more than what she had. Snape pressed forward, his words rather stuttered and forced as he struggled to give something of himself, but not too much.

"I—I do have issues, but they are my own issues, Hermione, and have nothing to do with you. And yes, you have seen me—shall I say not at my best, but don't you see, witch, I don't put up the façade with you? I know it is as unattractive emotionally as I am physically, but it is honest. I could have easily pretended to be unaffected, cool and calm, continued to present the false front that the wizarding world at large sees. But I feel, Hermione. Most of what I feel is painful and dark. I am haunted by my past—"

Hermione listened to the wizard open up. Not that anything he was saying was reassuring, but at least she was gaining some understanding of him. And it was true, he could have hidden his true nature from her, but he didn't.

Snape looked at her, unable to continue. This was too much for him.

"Leave me. Think of me what you will," he said softly. "Just know I would never purposely harm you or allow you to be harmed in my presence. I would protect you. After all, I was a protector for a very long time."

Hermione stood up, noting how tired the professor looked at this moment, as if the entire world was setting on his shoulders and he was breaking under the strain of it. Yes, he did need to get away from here. She could see it plainly.

"But why, Severus, why would you protect me?" she asked him. "You have no feelings for me. You aren't Ron. You don't love me."

Snape looked at her, a pained expression on his face as he replied to her. This was too much honesty for him, but he had to finish this conversation.

"Because, Hermione Granger, if you were to come with me, it would mean—that you believe in my dream, therefore, believe in me. You would be the one person in this world in my corner. I wouldn't let it take you from me. Now, please—just go. I will retrieve you from your quarters Saturday evening around eight o'clock. Dress warmly."

He watched as she silently left him, then let his face fall into his palm. This meeting hadn't gone at all like he planned. He had intended to goad the witch the entire time, make that Gryffindor pride come to the fore. He had managed to do that, but she came back at him just as hard, forcing him to answer her concerns. She had made him open up. No one had been able to do that for years.

No one.

The wizard rose, warded the office door and retired to his study.

He needed a drink. Several, in fact.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	24. Snape Makes a Move

**Chapter 24 ~ Snape Makes a Move**

"All right, Ron, have you decided what you're going to do with Hermione?" Bill asked him as Fleur fixed some tea. They were sitting in the kitchen at Shell Cottage.

"You mean other than shag her?" Ron asked him as Fleur shook her head and set his tea in front of him with a bit of attitude.

"You are still a selfish prat, Ronald Weasley," she chided him. "What Bill is saying is where are you going to take her for the romance. You cannot just do it. You must create the proper atmosphere. Make her happy with you."

"Oh," Ron said, looking thoughtful.

Bill and Fleur looked at each other, Bill shaking his head slightly. He'd taught Ron all he could about being a caring, sensitive lover and he seemed to get the hang of it, physically, but the emotional part, that was all on him. His new technique wouldn't mean a thing if he just sprang it on Hermione the selfish way he usually did.

"Well, she wants to do something exciting, but it's winter right now, so there's not much to do," Ron said, his brow furrowed. Then he brightened.

"Hey, do you have the Prophet?" he asked Bill.

"Sure," he said as Fleur went to retrieve it from the living room. She brought it in and handed it to Ron, who laid it flat on the table and quickly leafed through it, his blue eyes scanning the pages. Finally, he pointed at a small article.

"There. Advancements in the Fields of Charms and Spells," he said. "It's a four hour lecture on the newest Charms developments. I know Hermione would like that. It's being given at the Ministry Library this Sunday afternoon, by Miranda Goshawk. She's the witch who wrote all our Charms textbooks at Hogwarts. She's an authority."

"That doesn't sound very romantic," Fleur sniffed. Bill looked doubtful as well.

"I might not be the fastest broom in the shed when it comes to dealing with Hermione, but I know what wets her knickers more than anything, and that's learning new things. She'll love this, and love even more that I'll be attending it with her. I'm going to drink some Pepper-up Potion so I don't doze off," Ron said confidently. "I'm also going to buy whatever Goshawk's latest book is and get it autographed for Hermione. Then, we'll go out to eat someplace nice, then I'll bring her home and spend some quality time with her. It's a perfect plan."

"Well, the going out to eat is nice, but I don't know about the other—the lecture. I would have slapped Bill if he ever took me to a boring lecture," Fleur declared, glowering at her husband.

Bill just smirked. She could slap him if she wanted to . . .

"I'm going to go to Hogwarts tomorrow and invite her to the lecture. I was going to owl her, but I think it would be better to ask her face to face. I'm going to bring her flowers, too. Not roses this time. Something else."

Bill nodded.

"Sounds as if you have a plan, Ron. I really hope it works out for you," he said, slapping Ron on the back.

"And remember what I told you about the stroking," Fleur said warningly.

"And the oral," Bill interjected.

"I know. I know," Ron muttered at them, his hand reflexively going to his right forearm, even though it didn't hurt anymore. "I've got it."

"Good," Fleur replied, sitting down with her tea.

* * *

Hermione returned to her quarters, thinking her meeting with Snape and what he'd said. He sounded . . . well, almost human.

She frowned slightly for thinking that. It was cruel—unfair. Of course Severus was human, with frailties and weaknesses like anyone else. Maybe even more frailties because of what he'd gone through for an ungrateful wizarding world.

As she undressed for bed, Hermione realized something when she was speaking to the wizard. That she did have something he didn't, people who stood by her, who cared about her. She wasn't alone in the world, but he truly was standing on the outside and looking in. And she knew something else—

Severus Snape was reaching out to her. No matter how much he might deny it, the dark, cold, snarky bat of the dungeons was looking for someone to stand by him, someone to—trust. And he had decided that she was the one. Sure, he had a dream, he had other motives, but the truth of the matter was out of everyone in the wizarding world, she was the one he found suitable.

But—Severus was so obviously damaged. Years of solitude and mistreatment had taken their toll on the man. What might he have been like if destiny had been kinder to him?

She lay down in her bed, pulling the heavy blankets over her body and staring into the semi-darkness.

Hermione Granger, if you were to come with me, it would mean—that you believe in my dream, therefore, believe in me. You would be the one person in this world in my corner. I wouldn't let it take you from me.

Hermione lay there, wondering exactly what it meant. If anyone other than Snape had said it, it would have sounded terribly romantic, a kind of commitment. Was it an expressed commitment from the wizard?

Hermione's brown eyes softened a bit. If Severus Snape had proved anything over the years, it was he was a man capable of commitment. He had served Albus Dumbledore from his youth, protected Harry as much as possible. Underwent torment after torment by the Dark Lord without even confessing his duplicity. He even killed Albus Dumbledore at the old wizard's request, all the while knowing it would make him appear to be a traitor, and become even more hated and reviled. He could have let Draco do it, but he didn't. He remained loyal until the very end.

Now Hermione's eyes began to fill, because underneath all that commitment, all that pain and suffering Snape had gone through, was his love for a woman that didn't love him back. Who married a man he despised, and despised with good reason. Every time he looked into Harry's green eyes for all those years, Lily's ghost looked back at him, beyond his reach, all that pain reborn anew.

Severus wasn't a handsome man. He wasn't a social man. He wasn't even a kind man. But he was capable of great loyalty and great self-sacrifice for the sake of others. He was willing to commit himself to her in a way, if she committed to him. He would provide for her, in a sense, since he said he would recoup his money. He would protect her and not abandon her in their travels. He would be a lover to her as well if she wanted that.

The wizard was so good at sex. Dear gods. Hermione felt a warmth creeping up her belly at the thought of him, that silken voice crooning at her as he gave her all the pleasure she could stand. How open and appreciative he was of her body, how it mattered to him how she felt, how he made her feel. She had never experienced that kind of focus from a man before.

Hermione shuddered, and willed the feeling away. She had already made her decision. Just because the dark wizard opened up a little didn't change her mind about his offer. Ron was working so hard at changing, and he was so much more comforting than Snape, so much safer. He laughed easily, smiled and didn't have a harsh bone in his body. Yes, he could be thoughtless, but no one was perfect. Ron was offering her a good, stable life, a home and a family. He came from a loving family, he had friends. He knew what it was to care for others and have others care for him. He was loyal too, and knew how to love. Hermione saw that clearly now. How could she ever throw that away?

She began to feel sleepy.

Still, on Saturday she would find out first hand what it would be like to go on an adventure with Snape. She had to admit that although she did her best to hide it from him, she was very excited. More excited than she'd been in a long, long time. She was walking into the proverbial jaws of death once more, and really didn't know what to expect. What was the little something Snape had up his robes sleeve that could "possibly" protect them? Well, she'd find out.

"You'd better not let me get eaten, Severus Snape," she murmured sleepily before dropping off.

* * *

The next day was Friday, and the Potions master had just emerged from the dungeon corridor, scattering students left and right as he strode toward the Great Hall for lunch. He stopped momentarily as he saw the outer doors open and Filch enter, followed by . . .

Ron Weasley.

The wizard was carrying a bunch of yellow flowers.

Snape's black eyes narrowed and he didn't move as Filch and Ron walked to the Great Hall, the squib letting him in.

There could be just one reason Weasley was here, and it would be to see Hermione. He'd hand her those blasted flowers in front of everyone All the witches would swoon, Hermione would flush and Snape would lose a lunch he hadn't even consumed yet. Well, maybe it wouldn't be the smooth transition Weasley thought it would.

Snape hurried down the corridor that led to the teacher's entrance and swooped through, sitting down just as Ron made it up to the dais, Hermione and the other witches beaming at him. Hagrid gave him a happy wave, which Ron returned, but it was clear he only had eyes for Hermione.

Snape pulled out his wand under the table and subtly flicked it at Ron.

"Hey, 'Moine" he grinned, attempting to leap up the dais. He fell flat on his face, Hermione and the other witches standing up in alarm. The students broke into laughter as a red-faced Ron stood up, his flowers flattened.

Snape smirked as Hermione ran around the table to Ron, who was gingerly brushing himself off, his ears bright red.

"Oh, Ron, are you all right?" she asked him, concern on her face. His nose was very red.

"I guess I miscalculated," he said sheepishly, then handed her the bouquet of crushed flowers. "I wanted to tell you I've made arrangements for an outing on Sunday afternoon, if you want to go . . ."

Snape murmured a listening spell, so he could hear what Ron was saying.

" . . . Miranda Goshawk's lecture."

"Oh, Ron! I'd love to go," Hermione gushed, kissing him on the cheek.

"Ooooh!" a chorus of student voices rose and fell as Hermione reddened.

Ron smiled at the students and looked back at Hermione. Gods, it felt as if he hadn't touched her for a million years.

"I have a school-related assignment I have to—er, do Saturday night, but I'll be home Sunday morning," Hermione told him.

Ron, thinking it was some kind of late night paperwork marathon, nodded. Hermione was forever doing something along those lines. Snape smirked once more. So, Hermione didn't want to tell her beau she'd be spending the night with him. That was quite—interesting. Obviously, the witch wasn't into "full disclosure."

"I'll pick you up after lunch then, but don't eat too much. I've made supper reservations at the Bee's Knees," he told her. He was rewarded with another broad smile from Hermione. The Bee's Knees was a very nice restaurant.

"I won't. Oh, this is wonderful, Ron. I can't wait for Sunday," she told him softly.

Ron carefully lifted her hand and kissed the back of it gently.

"Neither can I," he breathed.

Snape rolled his eyes, sure he wasn't going to be able to keep his lunch down. He ordered chicken broth with toast.

Ron left and Hermione returned to the dais, informing all of the witches about her upcoming date with Ron as Snape quickly ate his broth. The wizard left the Great Hall, returned to his office and quickly found an edition of the Daily Prophet. He scanned the paper until he found the details concerning the upcoming lecture. He studied them, running a finger over his lips for a moment, then pulled a piece of parchment toward him, and jotted down a note.

Dear Miss Divine,

You are to attend a lecture given by Miranda Goshawk this upcoming Sunday at the Ministry Library. It begins at 1:00 pm. Arrive around 3:00 pm, during the intermission. Mr. Weasley will be present. Make sure he sees you. Remember, you aren't to interact with him under any circumstances. Once you've accomplished this, send me a small pensieve and I will send you payment.

SS

Snape folded the parchment and sealed it with his wax stamp. He then placed a self-destruct charm on it, so as not to leave any evidence.

"You're going to find that lecture quite interesting, Mr. Weasley," the wizard purred as he exited his office and headed for the high tower and school owls.

"I daresay it will be—distracting as well."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	25. The Harvest

**Chapter 25 ~ The Harvest**

Hermione spent most of Saturday sleeping so she would be at her best Saturday night. She didn't want any dragons creeping up on her, although dragons were for the most part, day creatures. She began to get ready at six, showering, and dressing in warm Muggle clothing. She didn't want her robes tangling in her legs should she have to run.

At five minutes to eight there was a knock on her door. She opened it and found Professor Snape standing there in his robes, carrying a satchel and—oh horrors!

A broom. A black and silver Firebolt. Hermione's eyes went wide as she saw it.

"You said nothing about flying," she said tremulously.

"You didn't ask me," the wizard snapped back at her. "Now, come along if you're coming."

He turned and strode away.

Hermione stood in the doorway for a moment, then closed the door and followed him down the marble stairwell and out onto the grounds, Snape lighting his wand tip for light. Suddenly the wizard stopped and waited for her to catch up. He pushed the satchel into her hands, lay the broom vertically mid-air where it hover, then straddled it. He looked at Hermione.

"Get on," he said shortly. "Side saddle and close to me as you can get."

Hermione hated flying and hesitated.

"Do I leave you here?" he asked her, his eyes narrowed.

Hermione met his eyes and forced herself to be brave.

"No," she said, getting on the broom and sliding back so her buttock rested between his thighs.

"Nox" Snape said, putting out his wand and pocketing it. Then he slid both arms slowly around Hermione, gripping the handle of the broom, yanking her back unceremoniously so she was even tighter against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

"We're off," he purred in her ear, kicking off from the ground, the Firebolt blasting upward into the sky, Hermione's hair streaming as she let out a shriek.

"Isn't this comfy?" Snape crooned as they ascended, then leveled out high above the landscape, the broom streaking through the night sky.

Hermione calmed. It was so dark that she couldn't see the ground very well. Only clusters of lights in some places, smatterings of lights in others. The wind was very cold however, and she began shuddering against Snape, who slowed down the broom, carefully pulled out his wand, flicked it and murmured a warming spell before returning it to his pocket.

"Thank you," Hermione said to him softly, aware of his pale cheek resting against hers, his arms around her body and her hips surrounded and gripped by his sinewy thighs. He certainly was holding her securely.

Snape didn't reply as they zoomed toward their destination. Presently the smattering of lights disappeared and they soared through the darkness, the clouds thinning and hundreds of stars appearing in the heavens. Luminous, twinkling and beautiful as the wind whistled by them.

Hermione figured Snape must be using them to guide the direction of their flight. The air was crisp, clean and still cold although she was warm as toast in his arms. He didn't speak, so neither did she as they flew. Suddenly, the broom dipped landward, Hermione letting out another shriek as they descended through the darkness toward the earth.

"How can you see it?" she cried out. "How can you see the ground to stop?"

"I don't have to see it," Snape said softly. "Trust me."

Hermione leaned back into Snape in fear, expecting impact at any moment, but the wizard leveled out, and she could hear the sound of his boots dragging across the ground before they came to an easy stop.

"Do you know the night vision spell?" Snape asked her, not releasing her yet.

Hermione looked around. To use the night vision spell there had to be some minute source of light that could be amplified. The starlight should be enough. The spell lasted about fifteen minutes before it had to be reapplied.

"Yes," she said.

"Good. It is safer to use than Lumos," Snape said, "Cast it on yourself then me."

Hermione climbed off the broom, pulled out her wand and did as the wizard asked. Suddenly, she could see, although everything had a greenish tint to it. They were on rocky ground, seemingly devoid of plant life. In the distance was a mountain with cliffs, roughly dragon-shaped, cliffs rising like wings beside the middle outcrop of rocks. She could see a cave between the leg-like foundations.

"Winged Ridge," she breathed.

"Yes," Snape said, dismounting and reducing his Firebolt, placing it into his pocket, then bringing out an atomizer.

Hermione started to open the satchel she was carrying, curious as to what he had in it. It was very light.

"No!" Snape cried as Hermione opened the bag and was caught in a horrible suction, half her body being pulled inside as Snape desperately caught her ankles.

"Damn your curious eyes!" Snape snarled through clenched teeth as he struggled to pull her out, Hermione screaming. Finally, he managed to separate her from the satchel, closing the satchel with one hand as a gasping Hermione dropped to the ground.

"That's a collecting satchel, you little idiot!" Snape hissed at her. "It would have been hell getting you out of there. If you want to know something, ask me, damn it!"

"Well, I didn't know," Hermione said as Snape roughly pulled her to her feet, his dark eyes washing over her as if to see if everything was intact. "And don't call me names."

Snape stared at her for a moment, then picked up the atomizer he'd dropped on the ground while she was getting sucked into the satchel. He pointed it at her and squeezed the little bulb several times covering her in stench.

"Arrrgh!" Hermione cried, trying to run as Snape sprayed her. "What in the name of Merlin is that stuff?" She pulled her sweater up over her nose, but that didn't help because Snape had covered her liberally and her clothing stunk of the stuff.

"Essence of dragon," Snape said with a slight smirk, turning the atomizer on himself. "Dragons have a keen sense of smell. They won't blink a scaly eye when they scent this."

"Well it's awful," Hermione complained as Snape put the atomizer in his pocket.

"Not as awful as being chomped in half by a dragon. Now, cast a dome of silence around us so we can go," he told her. "Don't make it too large."

Hermione did so. The dome of silence would move with them and keep them from being heard by anything outside of it. They began to walk.

"I thought you were bringing a glow-bird," Hermione said to the wizard.

"I have. It is in my pocket, petrified. It was easier to transport in this manner," he replied, his black eyes shifting about. Suddenly, he grabbed Hermione and ducked down, throwing his robes over her.

"What?" she cried, struggling.

"Hold still," he hissed, tightening his grip as a dark form whooshed over them, heading for the cave. A dragon landed, looked about and lurched into the dark opening. "There is a late arrival."

Hermione looked at the cave as several flashes of light illuminated it for a few seconds.

"I imagine it's trying to find a spot," Snape said quietly.

There were several more flashes, and the dragon reappeared, backing out of the cave and firing into it before turning and leaping into the air.

"It seems fully occupied," the dark wizard said, watching the dragon flap away.

"Have you been in this cave before?" Hermione asked him.

"Yes," Snape answered, standing up now and letting Hermione rise as well. "Several times."

"I don't see why we had to come at night. Why not in the day when the dragons aren't around?" Hermione asked him.

"Dragonsbane retracts into the ground during the day for protection. It won't emerge without the presence of dragons to protect it. An evolutionary development. To be collected, dragons must be present."

"No wonder it's so expensive," Hermione said in a low voice as they approached the cave. "Aren't the dragons awake now."

"Most likely half-awake, but they fall asleep quickly. We won't disturb them when we enter. We are small compared to them. As long as we are careful."

"Maybe we should disillusion ourselves," Hermione suggested.

"It won't help. Dragons can still see us," Snape said as they approached the cave mouth.

"How will we be able to see in there?" Hermione asked him.

Damn, she asked a lot of questions.

"When dragons sleep, they breathe out minute tongues of fire. The spell should be able to use that light," Snape said as Hermione refreshed the spell, just in case. They approached the mouth.

"Wait here," Snape said, stepping outside of the dome and carefully peering inside the cave mouth. Several large dragons lay on the ground, heads resting on their scaly claws, little puffs of flame issuing from their scaly nostrils as they slept. Snape returned to Hermione.

"They're asleep. Come on, slowly," he said warningly.

Keeping close, he and Hermione entered the cave. Hermione stifled a gasp as she saw about eight dragons sleeping, their fangs sticking out of their closed mouths and little flames flicking out of their noses. She didn't dare say a word as they entered. She looked around but didn't see any Dragonsbane plants.

They moved further into the cave, until they were surrounded by the sleeping dragons. Snape shook his head slowly.

"It appears they are sleeping on top of the plants," he said quietly. "I had hoped to avoid this . . . "

"So, we leave, right?" Hermione asked him, looking around at the dragons nervously.

"No, Snape said, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wand and the petrified glow-bird. "Remove the dome of silence and get as close to me as possible."

"But . . . what . . .?" Hermione began.

"No more questions. Just follow my instructions!" the wizard hissed at her, his eyes hard.

Hermione swallowed and removed the dome of silence. The glow-bird looked like an ordinary bird. Snape tapped it with his wand.

"Finite Incantatum," he breathed removing the spell and quickly putting his wand into his pocket and bringing out a closed fist.

"Awwwrk!" the bird squawked.

Immediately, several dragons opened their eyes.

"YAAAAAAH!" Snape yelled throwing the glow-bird straight up into the air. It flared up brightly, almost blinding as it ascended.

The dragons all leapt to their feet, at first orienting on the glowing bird streaking toward the ceiling and firing flames at it, incinerating it instantly. As the small, smoking corpse fell toward the ground, Snape threw a fistful of powder straight up in the air and it fell back down on he and Hermione, just at the dragons saw them. They were still standing and blasted flame at the pair.

"No!" Hermione cried as the flames rolled toward them from all sides. Snape stood there watching as the flame slowed then froze in place. Everything froze in place except he and Hermione.

"Quickly! We only have five minutes," the wizard said, running through the frozen flames as if it were fog and underneath the first dragon.

Hermione followed, passing through the brilliant flame easily, feeling no heat and watched as Snape slashed his wand at the low plants underneath the creature.

"Sectumsempra!" he cried, then, "Open the satchel toward the plants!"

Hermione did so and they were sucked into the satchel. She followed Snape about as he quickly sliced the plants, sucking them into the bag. After about four minutes, she became aware of the cavern warming.

"We have to go!" Snape hissed. "Run! Now!"

He grabbed Hermione by the wrist as roars began to echo and the temperature in the cave rose quickly. The dragons slowly connected to the floor and began to pursue Snape and Hermione, their flames slowly gaining speed, shooting toward the fleeing pair, who were out of the cave now, the dragons right behind them.

Hermione couldn't help looking back and a dragon was right on top of her, jaws agape and flame pouring right at her. Suddenly, Snape was on top of her and there was a sickening crush and pull for about thirty seconds, then she was on the cold ground, Snape on top of her. She opened her eyes and recognized the gates of Hogwarts.

They were back, and her heart was pounding, full of exhilaration. Snape's robes were smoking, but he was unhurt, looking down at the witch's red face and wide eyes.

"We made it!" she gasped, looking up into Snape's sober face. "I can't believe it. I thought we were dead for sure! What did you do to them to freeze them?"

"Nothing," the wizard purred, not getting off of the witch. "What I did, I did to us. I used Fleet powder. It's my own creation. We sped up while the dragons remained in regular motion. We were out of sync with them and invisible to the naked eye."

"Amazing," Hermione breathed.

"Yesss," the wizard agreed, looking down at her. "I can feel your heart racing. It's good to be alive, isn't it?"

"It is," she breathed up at him.

They lay there, looking at each other for a moment, Hermione aware of the weight of his body on top of hers. His heart was racing as well, although he seemed calm.

"Quite the adventure," the wizard said to her softly. "A small one, but an adventure still. There can be many more just as exhilarating, Hermione."

Hermione stared up at him, blinking, not knowing what to say. Then, he kissed her softly, his lips pressing against hers gently, teasingly, sweetness starting to wash over her. She accepted it for a moment, letting herself revel in his magic before twisting her head away. Snape stared down at her.

"Still fighting it," he said softly, then rolled off of her and got to his feet. He helped her up and took the satchel from her, cold again.

"You did well," he said, unwarding the gate and walking through, leaving it open. He began quickly striding across the grounds, leaving Hermione staring after him.

He was a good distance away when Hermione came to herself, entering the gates and warding them back. She hurried to catch up to him, but Snape was walking so quickly that she couldn't do it. He entered the castle. By the time she made it in, he was gone. Presumably to his quarters.

Hermione stood there in the entrance hall, not knowing how to feel. Then she let out a sigh and climbed the marble stairwell, heading for her own quarters.

He hadn't even said good night.

* * *

A/N: I hope this chappie is all right. I have a stomach virus and haven't eaten a thing in 24 hours. I've been drinking water, milk and a little soup. So I feel a bit lightheaded. But I wanted to do this chapter, so attempted it. Thanks for reading.


	26. The Date and the Decision

**Chapter 26 ~ The Date and the Decision**

Ron picked up Hermione at noon. She had eaten a light breakfast and skipped lunch completely. It didn't have so much to do with her date with Ron, but how she felt inside after her adventure with Severus the night before. As frightening as it had been, it had also been—glorious. The last time she felt so alive was when—when Voldemort had been alive and they were on the run. It disturbed her a bit that she was nostalgic for those wicked, dangerous times, especially when so many suffered and died. What kind of person was she to get off on danger the way she did?

When Ron picked her up, she was a bit subdued.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Ron asked her solicitously as they walked across the grounds, both in Muggle dress, Hermione in a warm coat and a pullover hat. Ron wore a Weasley hat and sweater, courtesy of his mum.

"I'm fine, Ro—oh! Ron, are you all right?" Hermione cried as Ron suddenly fell face first on the ground. She helped him up. Ron brushed himself off.

"I'm fine. I don't know why I'm so clumsy every time I come here," he said to her, taking her arm and continuing toward the gates.

From a turret window, Snape put his wand away as Hermione helped her beau up.

Firing a long distance tripping hex at Ron had been juvenile, but he hadn't been able to help himself.

* * *

Ron surprised Hermione with Miranda Goshawk's latest book: Charms Throughout the Ages. She was very happy with it as they made their way to the Ministry Library. They got great seats in the third row. Ron had taken the Pepper-up potion as he said he would, and made it through the first two-hour segment just fine. He even managed to listen to the lecture, taking some of it in, although it was boring as far as he was concerned. When intermission came, he and Hermione got in line to have her book signed. Hermione was very excited.

The line was moving slowly, everyone wanting to speak to the famous witch. Ron idly looked around, then stiffened, his mouth dropping open for a moment. Hermione was intent on watching the line move and getting glimpses of the author, so didn't notice.

There, at the libations table, stood Odessa, getting a cup of punch. She brought it slowly to her lips, her green eyes shifting about and falling directly on Ron. They made eye contact, Odessa quickly draining her cup of punch and disappearing into the milling crowd.

Ron's first impulse was to leave Hermione in the line and go after the witch, but not to try and find out where she lived, but to get some kind of closure—to tell her what happened between them should never have happened. But then, he fought the impulse. What happened, happened. Talking to the witch wouldn't change that. It would be better just to leave her be and focus on Hermione, who he truly loved.

Hermione felt Ron slip his arms around her waist lightly, brush back her hair and kiss her throat softly before letting her go. She turned and looked up at him.

"What was that for?" she asked him softly as Ron looked down at her soberly.

"Because I love you, that's all," he replied, then, "the line's moving up."

Hermione gave him a smile and turned back around, moving forward.

Ron let out a sigh, glancing back toward the table, then over the crowd.

Whoever the witch was, she was gone.

Thank Merlin.

* * *

Odessa returned to the brothel, quickly prepared a very small Pensieve. Using one of Madam Natasha's owls, she immediately sent it to the Potions Master. It was hand delivered to him by Filch, since there was no access to the dungeons for an owl.

"Curious package. No return address," Filch said curiously as he handed the package to Snape, who unceremoniously closed the door in the squib's face without answering him.

Quickly, the wizard let himself into his quarters, sat down before the fireplace and opened the package. He took at out the Pensieve and stared down into it. It showed Ron looking toward Odessa, his mouth dropping open. But, instead of leaving the line, he watched her disappear into the crowd. Odessa was still watching him however and he saw the redheaded wizard wrap his arms around Hermione and kiss her throat, before straightening and looking around once more, then focusing on the line.

"Damn it!" Snape hissed, angered that Ron didn't take the bait and rush off after Odessa. Obviously, the wizard had matured, or at least made up his mind that Hermione was more important than the best blowjob of his life.

Snape sat there for a moment, then viciously threw the Pensieve against the fireplace wall, the bowl shattering and the silvery liquid flowing down the wall before evaporating. His chest rising and falling, he stared at the shattered pieces, knowing that Odessa wasn't the answer. If Ron could resist her at the first showing, it would be easier to do the following times. The dark wizard really didn't want to risk the witch coming on any stronger. It might backfire and be found out that he was the one who sent her that Christmas day. Hermione might not forgive Ron, but she might not forgive him as well.

Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at the shards on the floor.

"Scourgify," he hissed, cleaning it up then resting his wand on the small repaired table.

What was he going to do now?

Snape ran a finger over his lips as he considered his options.

Giving up wasn't one of them.

* * *

Hermione and Ron had a wonderful meal at the Bee's Knees, Hermione leafing through her book as they ate, exclaiming at all the new information and end notes.

"This has to be the most comprehensive book she's written yet, Ron," Hermione gushed.

"I'm glad you like it," Ron said, looking at her in the candlelight and mentally going over all he'd learned from Bill and Fleur. He decided to test the waters. Bill said not to press too hard.

"When we finish, I'll drop you off at the flat," Ron said softly.

Hermione stopped eating and blinked at him.

"What? Aren't you going to stay?" she asked him.

"If you want me to, Hermione. I just didn't want to—you know. Pressure you," he said to her softly.

Hermione gave him a warm smile.

"I don't feel pressured at all, Ron. I'd like you to stay the night," she told him.

Ron gave her a brilliant smile then.

"I'd like to stay, Hermione. I've missed being with you," he told her honestly. "But we don't have to do anything if you—"

"Shhh. We'll deal with that once we get home, Ron," she told him, blushing slightly.

Ron gave her another smile and dug into his food with gusto.

It was on.

* * *

"Ron, it's all right, Ron. Maybe you were under too much pressure," Hermione told the silent wizard as he lay next to her sullenly. He had done everything right, from the snogging, to the foreplay, even to the oral sex, Hermione squirming in pleasure as he applied his newfound knowledge. She was so hot, she was willing to be reciprocal, and that's when it happened.

Ron lost his erection. Completely. They tried to get him aroused again, but it just wouldn't work.

"It'll be all right, Ron," Hermione said to him again, softly.

Ron didn't think it would be. When Hermione took him into her mouth, all he could see was Odessa, and his reaction was all wrong. Guilt could work on a wizard like being dashed with ice water. He went slack immediately.

Now, Hermione was trying to tell him it was all right. But it wasn't all right, and her repeating it over and over wasn't going to help anything. Suddenly, he rolled out of the bed.

"I'd better go, Hermione," he said, his back to her as he pulled on his briefs.

"What? Why Ron? Stay here. We don't have to have sex," she told him as he stepped into his jeans, pulling them up around his lean hips and fastening them.

"We can't have sex. What good am I?" he said to her, pulling on his shirt, then his sweater. "I'm a pudding dick."

Hermione sat up in the bed, holding the covers over her bare torso.

"Don't say that. There's more to a relationship than sex," she replied, "besides, it's been a while for us and you've—you've been working hard at being a better lover, and you were wonderful—just wonderful up to—"

"Up to the point I went soft," Ron muttered. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I have to go. Lying in bed with you and not being able to—to do anything would be torture. I feel tortured enough."

With that, Ron walked out of the bedroom. Hermione heard the front door slam, followed by the crack of Apparition. She sighed and fell back into the bed, holding herself and staring up at the ceiling. She really did feel a bit cheated, but didn't want to kick Ron when he was down. It had all gone so wonderfully today . . .

What the hell went wrong?

Slowly, she slid her fingers between her wet folds and began to masturbate.

Try as she might, Ron's face wasn't the one she envisioned as she brought herself to climax.

* * *

Snape was well into his fifth Firewhiskey, listening to Vivaldi on his Wizarding Wireless as he mulled over his situation with Hermione. It didn't help to think that Weasley was probably on top of her right now, mauling her body selfishly as he always did. He didn't deserve her. Not in the least. He was ruining her.

Snape downed the rest of his drink and listened to the swell in the music, his dark eyes reflecting the firelight, his lank hair curtaining his face and nose slightly wrinkled with distaste as he imagined the two of them together. He stood up suddenly, and wavered in place. Should he slip Hermione a love potion? Should he kill Weasley and take him out of the equation all together?

No. He was thinking like a madman now. They were two perfectly good options, but a bit extreme. A love potion could be detected, as could be a murder. Perhaps he could duel Weasley, but that was no guarantee Hermione would accompany him. Most likely she wouldn't if he killed her beau. Then there were the other idiot Weasleys to deal with, and lest he forget, Potter.

Snape began pacing as it dawned on him what he needed to do, the realization rising bile-like in his throat as his nature fought against it. Dear gods, he didn't have any idea how to do this. What it would take to honestly steal a witch from another wizard? He was used to manipulation, deceit and misdirection to acquire what he wanted.

He'd have to court Hermione, and she already felt herself taken. But she wasn't married to the wizard, or even engaged. That made her fair game, didn't it?

Snape sat back down and considered what he had to work with.

They both were employed at Hogwarts and Hermione stayed at the castle most of the time. They both had a love of adventure. And most compelling of all, was they had sex, good, hot, dirty sex and the witch had loved it. Even when he kissed her last night, she responded to him for a moment before her sense of propriety kicked in. Could he tempt her back into his arms? That seemed to be the strongest connection.

If he could, he'd be even more compelling this time. But, there would have to be more to this than simple sex, or stealing her away. This required an investment of emotions, an opening up. Wanting her wouldn't be enough. He had to make Hermione fall in love with him. With him.

It would probably be easier to walk on water.

And he'd have to give her something more than his desire. Could he invest? Could he—love?

Snape fixed himself another drink.

Technically, he could love. He'd done it once before with horrible results. It had been so painful to watch her walk away. So painful that he closed himself off from feeling anything remotely vulnerable for all the years that followed.

But gods, he wanted Hermione. It seemed the closer she became to Ron, the more he wanted to rip her away from him bodily. A snarl appeared on his pale face as he thought about it.

There was another aspect to pursuing Hermione. He would have to let her know he was pursuing her, and not just as a companion, but to be his witch in every sense of the word.

Telling her that would be the most difficult part of all. It would be opening himself up to immediate rejection, a rejection he couldn't accept if he were to succeed. He'd have to think very carefully how to approach her. She might think he was attempting to lead her on—that he was lying to her, willing to say anything to get her to agree to accompany him.

Gods, this was going to be his most difficult mission yet. Being a double agent for the Order didn't hold a candle to this. He could be cold, unresponsive and a total bastard in his service to Albus Dumbledore. That definitely wouldn't work on Hermione.

Snape took a big gulp of his Firewhiskey, rasping and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, staring into the flickering flames.

Oh gods, damn it. Things had just become very, very difficult.

Snape had no idea that his plan with Odessa had worked on some level, and at this very moment Hermione was feverishly masturbating with his name on her parted lips

Considering Snape's new plans, that little development could be promising.

* * *

A/N: My, my. Snape's little plan didn't work as he planned, but seemed to work on some level. Poor Ron. Poor Hermione and poor Snape. He's going to have to ante up now or give up. Ought to be interesting. Thanks for reading.


	27. Snape Takes Action

**Chapter 27 ~ Snape Takes Action**

Snape finally hit upon a plan he thought might help him break the ice with Hermione, and wrote it down, intending on enacting it first thing in the morning. He was drunk. Extremely drunk, but even inebriated he could tell when he hit on something that might work in his favor. It was remembering it that was the problem, which was why he wrote it down. He then drank several glasses of water, pissed and made his way to bed. In the morning, he'd pop a Bezoar in his mouth for a few seconds. Most took Sober-up potion for a hangover, but it only took away the symptoms. Alcohol was a poison after all, and a Bezoar cleansed it completely from the body.

Snape didn't bother sharing this information with anyone, simply because he had invested in the commercial Sober-up potions business long ago, due to the Brits' inclination to enjoy their liquor immensely, and received residuals directly to his Gringotts account. Wizards having access to an antidote that would never run out would be bad for the profit margin. And it seemed no one else was bright enough to figure it out yet.

He stripped down and fell into the bed, drawing the blanket partially over his pale, scarred body and falling fast asleep, snoring horribly.

* * *

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts very early in the morning, still concerned about Ron and feeling a bit guilty about her self-love session with Severus as the star. She walked up to the door of her office and scowled slightly as she saw an envelope attached to it. A cramped, tight scrawl read:

_To Miss Hermione Granger, Spells Mistress_

She had hell prying it loose.

"Damn it, whoever did this must have used a spell similar to the one that kept Mrs. Black attached to the wall at 12 Grimauld Place," she said through gritted teeth as she applied spell after spell. Finally she got the damned letter down.

She turned it over in her hands curiously and saw it had a green wax seal with the initials SS stamped into it. Oh, no wonder it was so hard to remove. Professor Snape had affixed it there, and done so securely. Hm. Now what was this about?

She let herself into the office, then into her private quarters. She took off her coat and hat, hung them up then sat down at her desk to read the letter. Once again it took a while to pry open the seal, but she finally did it, wiping the perspiration from her forehead before unfolding the missive. The handwriting was rather miserly looking, if that were possible, the letters very close together as if not wanting to leave any unused space available. But there was enough separation for the words to be readable. Barely.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Forgive me for my hasty departure, but Dragonsbane wilts very quickly once harvested and loses valuable potency. It was imperative I take it to my lab and prepare it quickly for use._

Ah, so that explained it, and Hermione had thought he was just being rude, as usual. She read on.

_I would like to thank you—_

Hermione stared at the words, trying to fit them to the snarky wizard she knew. It was very difficult. Severus Snape thanking anyone for anything was a hard pill to swallow. She kept reading.

_—thank you for your assistance last night, especially with the challenges of flying by broom and not knowing what to expect. You did quite well with your Charm work and without you my harvest would have been unsuccessful. Possibly even deadly._

_I know that technically you assisted me to serve the school, but I believe my personal thanks are in order, and would like to treat you to a small, informal meal of foods you enjoy, on neutral ground. Perhaps in the ROR. I realize I am not someone you may perceive as ideal dining company, but I will do my best to keep any unpleasantness to a minimum. I am sadly lacking in social skills, so this may take some effort._

Hermione harrumphed at this. That was an understatement if she'd ever read one.

_Gratitude is not my forte, but I feel I should attempt at least some expression of it. Then again, you may feel my invitation an imposition and reject it. Rather than arbitrarily assume you would reject it, I've approached you on the chance that I could be wrong. You can give me your answer at breakfast this morning in the affirmative if you decide to dine with me. If not, simply walk past me without saying a word and I will understand._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus T. Snape_

Hermione blinked at the letter. Severus Snape wanted her to have dinner with him? Alone? Dear gods, what in the world would that be like?

She studied the letter. It must have been a supreme effort for him to write it. It would have been nicer if he had asked her in person, but this was Snape. A face to face rejection would have been painful to him. It was easier this way.

Hermione couldn't help feeling a little pang when she read how he believed she would reject his invitation, although he tried to cover his doubts and self-depreciating manner, and even more of a pang when she read she didn't have to say anything and he'd understand he'd been rejected.

Hermione slowly folded the parchment and sat at her desk, staring into space, wondering exactly how a dinner with the dark wizard would go. Would there be wine? Candlelight? Music? Or would it be stark and uncomfortable, without conversation?

But there was a chance she might enjoy herself, or at least the food.

It was thoughtful of him to choose neutral ground, but also shrewd. Hermione knew that he could enter the ROR with her in mind and the room would most likely show him the foods she liked. It was an amazing place after all. Of course, it couldn't produce the food. It wasn't possible to create food magically, but Snape could have the house elves prepare it and deliver it much like they did to the Great Hall, by magic.

Hermione couldn't openly admit to herself that she wanted to be in Snape's presence again. Alone. He wasn't the kind of man who invited others in, but he did so with her, and as a result, she did feel rather special, although there was an uncomfortable side to it. A rather frightening, belly-clenching side because he was so unpredictable. An exciting side that was missing with Ron, sweet as he was.

Snape gave Lily Evans the same feeling of specialness years ago, before she turned her back on him and his innate darkness for the bright glow of James Potter. But Hermione didn't know that. All she knew was he had issued her an invitation and expected her to decline.

But she wouldn't.

Hermione told herself that it would be rude to reject his invitation, especially after he'd gone through such pains to invite her. It was just dinner after all.

Just dinner.

Yes, that's precisely what she told herself.

* * *

Snape arrived early at breakfast, but lingered over his tea before ordering. He felt tight inside, coiled, like a spring as he waited for Hermione to arrive. She had to have received his invitation. Now, it was up to her. Would she stop beside him and tell him yes, or walk by silently without acknowledgement?

His stomach gurgled uncomfortably, and for a moment, nausea washed over him. Oh good gods, was he going to be sick? The last time he felt like this, he was just a child about to introduce himself to the beautiful red-haired girl at the park, and her skinny, horse-faced sister.

He steadied himself. He was no smitten boy. He was a man. Severus Snape. The darkest, snarkiest wizard in existence, if the stories were to be believed. He did nothing to dispel them—

Until now, that is. Now, he was reaching out to a witch, which showed he wasn't as unfeeling as the stories said, and as he believed himself to be. Every time the door of the teacher's entrance opened, his black eyes cut toward it without him moving his head. Each time he was disappointed and relieved as Hagrid, Minerva, Sybill and the other teachers entered. Students were also beginning to file in. Snape didn't even give them his usual morning glare, he was so out of sorts.

Finally, Hermione entered, dressed in her staff robes. She walked slowly towards him as he studiously sipped his now cold tea. He tensed, expecting her to walk by.

She didn't. She stopped beside his chair and leaned down so her lips were close to his ear. Snape reflexively closed his eyes as her warm breath tickled the pale shell of it, like a small, welcomed caress.

"I'd love to have dinner with you, Severus," she said softly, then moved on.

The tightness left him and an unfamiliar feeling of lightness filled his thin frame as Hermione walked away and sat down next to Trelawney. The dark wizard ventured a small glance at her, and found her looking at him with a smile. He quickly looked down, flustered and elated at the same time, trying not to show any emotion.

But Hermione could tell he was happy. She could feel it somehow, although there was no visible change in him. She felt rather good about that.

Snape ordered his breakfast, his mind percolating now. He hadn't made it past writing her.

Now, he had a dinner to plan.

Hermione was right. Snape did plan to use the ROR's wealth of knowledge gleaned from Hogwarts to find out what Hermione's favorite foods were. Also, using the room would take a lot of the guesswork out of it, because it would provide the setting needed for a good dining experience. All he would have to do was be reasonably—nice and polite.

Arrgh.

No pressure there.

If the dinner went well, perhaps Hermione would be amicable to another dinner, one where he could make his intentions known, although Merlin knew he'd like to engage the witch again. There were so many other acts he could show her to prove his prowess as a lover. But no, he had to move slowly, carefully. Stir her emotions the way he knew he could stir her body. It was unfortunate women and men were so intrinsically different.

Women gave sex for love, and men gave love for sex. Of course, there was intermediate ground. Sometimes it was just sex for sex's sake or out of need for contact rather than love. Snape wanted love to motivate Hermione to accept him at the end of all this, and hoped beyond hope he still had, or could build up enough trust deep inside himself to return her love because of her acceptance. Perhaps, perhaps he could give himself a potion if he found himself lacking. It was a thought, anyway.

He cursed himself suddenly, making a sharp, reflexive jerking motion over his eggs and toast. There he went again, moving too quickly. There was still the matter of Ronald Weasley. He wasn't just going to disappear, not to mention the possibility Hermione accepted his invitation just to be polite. She was a bleeding heart Gryffindor after all, and could just—just pity him.

His jaw tightened. He didn't need to be pitied. He was fine—it was just—just that he wanted her with him so badly and time was running out. None of his other attempts had worked. He had to do it this way—it was his only option.

Other than kidnapping Hermione that is, and that option wasn't completely off the table.

* * *

After finishing his breakfast before Hermione, Snape waited outside the staff entrance, standing close to the wall and avoiding the eyes and greetings of the other staff as they exited, looking at him curiously. Usually, once Snape left the Great Hall, it was as if he'd Disapparated away, he headed to the dungeons so quickly. He wasn't one for loitering in corridors, just slinking down them.

Hermione emerged, and Snape quickly approached her. His jaw was tight as was his throat, and he presented a very severe expression as Hermione looked up at him.

"Thank you for accepting my dinner invitation," the wizard said, his normally smooth silken voice sounding forced.

Hermione looked up into his scowling visage.

"You certainly don't look pleased," she commented.

"Well, I am!" Snape snapped defensively, unable to help himself. Being vulnerable was a real chore.

"All right. All right," Hermione said soothingly. "I'll take your word for it, rather than how you look."

"Good," Snape replied as they began to walk. "Is Friday evening good for you?"

"Friday is fine," Hermione said as they emerged from the corridor into the entrance hall.

"Good, I'll retrieve you at seven," Snape said, turning and billowing toward the dungeons at a fast stride, Hermione looking after him with raised eyebrows.

"I can't believe it. I think this is the first time I've ever seen the Potions master with a real case of nerves," she thought to herself.

Then she giggled. It was also the first time in her life she'd ever found anything remotely funny about Severus Snape.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	28. Retrieved

**Chapter 28 ~ Retrieved**

Hermione owled Ron daily both at the Burrow and the joke shop, but didn't receive any answer from him. He was probably sulking.

Hermione was a bit angry with him because technically, she hadn't done anything wrong and only tried to be understanding. For Ron to punish her for his shortcoming really wasn't Quidditch.

And she was right. Ron was absolutely miserable and refused to tell Bill and Fleur what happened.

"I don't want to talk about it," was his only reply.

Fleur wanted to go and talk to Hermione, but Bill told her to stay out of it.

"It's Ron's relationship, Fleur. He has to work through it."

"But we spent so much time, Bill. I want to know what he did wrong," his wife said stubbornly.

"No, Fleur, and this time, I'm serious," Bill told her, his eyes sober as he met her gaze.

Fleur tossed her silvery-blonde hair and stormed out of the kitchen.

But she didn't contact Hermione.

* * *

Ron wouldn't tell anyone in his family what had gone wrong. George nagged at him, and even attempted to cast a sneak Legilimency spell on his brother, but Ron felt his intrusion and slammed down his Occlumency walls. Then they had a huge brawl in the back of the store, knocking down items and setting off a large amount of jokes. After they cleaned everything up, George fired Ron for "hitting the boss." He was unemployed for two days, until Molly made George hire him back. They worked for the rest of the week grunting at each other like reluctant, bad-tempered apes.

Ron had received all of Hermione's messages to contact her, or asking if she could come see him. He didn't answer them, because he didn't know what to say to her. What must she think of him? Hermione complained about their sex life before when everything was working properly. She had to really be disappointed in him now that he couldn't shag her at all. Ron just didn't want to see Hermione right now. It would be like staring his failure in the face. He just needed some time.

He was seriously considering going to St. Mungo's and having a targeted Obliviation done. It was very expensive, but the safest route. There were unlicensed wizards and witches that provided such services, but one could never be sure what they had removed. Some people woke up completely cleaned out of their Galleons, both in their pockets and their bank accounts, unable to remember who did it, all memory of the transaction, operation and person who did it wiped away. No. If he were going to do it, it would have to be an inpatient job. Ron had saved a little money, but he'd have to clean out his account to pay for the Obliviation.

His only other option was to confess to Hermione what happened at the joke shop. He was sure she wouldn't forgive him for it. After all, he would find it hard to forgive her if she had been with another wizard in any manner, even if it were just a kiss. They were supposed to be loyal to each other, and he felt as if he'd broken a sacred trust.

Hermione would never do such a thing to him. She had control of her urges and thought before she acted. No wizard would be able to just sweep her off her feet and on to her back, nor would she give a bloke a blow job in a dressing stall for thrills.

Miserable, Ron made the decision to have his interlude with a stranger wiped completely from his mind. Once that happened, he'd be able to face Hermione again. The only thing was, he couldn't tell her about the procedure. It would bring up too many questions. It was dishonest, but he could think of no other way to keep the witch he loved.

* * *

Snape noticed during the week there was no influx of owls bearing gifts for Hermione. No flowers, no candies and no follow-up cherubs. It was as if Ron Weasley had just dropped off the face of the planet. It could be the wizard was out of town or something similar, but it just seemed rather strange after a previous week full of nauseatingly juvenile attentions.

Hermione seemed a little out of sorts as well, distracted. The wizard idly wondered if something had happened on their date, unrelated to Odessa. Something that might give him a bit of an advantage. If Ron were neglecting Hermione, then she might be more open to—a stronger approach at dinner. Maybe he might be able to fit breakfast into their date as well.

Again, he was probably getting ahead of himself, but any advantage he could gain, he wanted. Now, on Friday evening, the wizard stood staring at himself in the mirror. He was no one's beauty king, that was for certain.

He tried to force a pleasant smile and winced at the grimace that appeared on his face. His slight smiles were a thousand times better when they were real, small as they were. He ran his fingers through his greasy-looking black hair, and cocked his head slightly. At least he could do something about its appearance for the short term. Working with potions constantly was hell on hair, not that he really cared. But, in trying to put his best foot forward for Hermione, he'd make the effort, sure she'd notice. He went to his lab and opened his potions stores and took out a number of ingredients.

It shouldn't take him long to brew a shampoo to make his hair more appealing. He couldn't do a thing about any other part of him other than apply a glamour. He drew the line at that. She knew all his imperfections already. It made no sense to try and pad them. He began brewing.

By six-fifteen, he had concocted a foaming unscented shampoo. He yanked a strand of his hair out and dipped it into the small cauldron, drawing it out slowly and blowing on it. The strand suddenly whipped about, became shiny and healthy looking. Snape studied it, wondering how odd he'd look with healthy, bouncing hair.

After a moment, he shrugged. Hell, he was going out on a limb concerning everything else, why not this, too? He poured the shampoo into a bottle, cleaned the cauldron and headed for his quarters to shower and dress.

* * *

Hermione stood in her white bra and knickers, eyeing her wardrobe as she tried to decide what to wear. Severus had said it was an informal meal, not an intimate dinner. She didn't want to dress in robes, because that was a little too ordinary, and Muggle jeans were out of the question as well.

She thought about it, tapping her cheek with a fingertip as she looked at her little worn dresses. She should look nice. Attractive. But not too attractive. It might give the wizard ideas, ideas that couldn't happen.

Even as she thought it, Hermione felt a little twinge inside and again, pushed it away. Ron had left her hanging Sunday, and although she managed to twiddle her way to a small release, it was nowhere near as satisfying as a wizard-inspired orgasm. She didn't dare think a Snape-inspired orgasm although that was the truth of it.

She pulled out a green silk dress. It was a good dress. Pretty, but demure. It fell below her knees, was long-sleeved, flattered her figure and didn't show too much cleavage. A modest dress for a modest occasion.

Hermione didn't allow herself to think she chose the dress because it was one of Snape's house colors. Nor did she think when she chose to wear a silver necklace and earrings. But the earrings were little dangling lions, so represented her house. She had a pair of nice matching low-heeled green flats and put them on as well. She had conditioned her hair so it looked more curly than bushy. Hopefully it would hold during the meal.

She lightly applied a little lipstick and mascara. She didn't need blush, she was slightly reddened already. She looked at her perfumes and decided against them. She studied her loose, curly hair again, then decided to pin it up, so it looked as if she'd made an effort. She twisted it, then secured it with a silver comb. She stepped back and studied herself.

Gods, if she didn't look like a walking invitation for a Slytherin encounter. She started to unpin her hair when a knock sounded on the door. She looked up at the clock.

It read seven and her belly dropped. She drew a deep breath, picked up her wand and slid it up her sleeve. She tugged at the hem of her dress, then walked out of her quarters, let the wall down behind her, walked through her office and opened the door. Severus was standing there rather stiffly. He was wearing his regular robes, his dark eyes drifting over her slowly.

"I said it was to be an informal meal," he said to the witch tightly. He said it tightly because there was a responding tightness in his groin area as he looked at her, wrapped up so prettily and perfectly. She wasn't flashing her wares, but they were delightfully presented by understatement.

"This is informal," Hermione said to him, arching an eyebrow as she looked at his hair. "I suppose you having shiny, manageable and tangle-free hair counts as informal as well."

"There's nothing wrong with making an effort," the wizard snapped, displeasure on his face at her turning things around on him.

"My feelings exactly," Hermione replied coolly, walking out of the office and closing the door behind her. "Shall we go?"

Snape stared at her. She was wearing lipstick and it made her lips look fuller. How he'd love to smear it with his mouth all over her smug little face. His eyes narrowed unpleasantly for a moment.

"Yes," he said shortly, turning and waiting for her. They walked to the narrow stairwell that led to the second floor.

"After you," Snape said, making a gesture.

Hermione walked up the stairwell a bit self-consciously as Snape followed, his eyes resting on her buttocks as she ascended. Hermione swore she could feel them burning into her skin and flushed as she emerged on the second floor corridor and turned quickly to catch him. Of course he was looking at her face by then.

Snape gave her a little smirk because of the unspoken accusation in her eyes, and the redness of her face.

"It seems the slightest effort makes you flush, Hermione. Am I going to have to carry you to the ROR?" he purred at her.

"No—it's just that I felt—I knew—"

"Yes? You knew what?"

"Oh—nothing. Just forget it," she snapped turning away from him and walking ahead.

Snape's eyes were right back on her rump again.

It was a very nice view, plump and shifting beneath the silk fabric like two nifflers having a mild altercation. He was particularly appreciative since her arse was also draped in Slytherin green. It just added to the allure.

Hermione stopped in front of the door to the Room of Requirement, which was clearly visible since Snape had set it in place. But when he left the room, nothing had yet appeared by way of furnishings. He did, however, find out what foods Hermione liked and made arrangements for the house elves to deliver the meal once the room was properly oriented. There would be a small assortment of various foods and desserts. That was all Snape knew and expected. He'd find out the rest once they entered the room.

Hermione stood before the door, feeling as if she were about to embark on yet another adventure with the wizard. Snape leaned over her, bringing his lips close to her ear and startling her slightly when he murmured silkily, "Welcome to the feast, Hermione," twisted the knob and pushed the door open before her.

She stared into the room as Snape caught her shoulders gently, guiding her in as he told her, "Here, behind closed doors, all of your appetites—will be met."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	29. The Meal

**Chapter 29 ~ The Meal**

Hardly aware of Snape's hands on her shoulders, Hermione moved into the room. Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise at the setting. Since Hermione entered first, the room adapted to her needs and desires.

He found it quite interesting. The door closed behind them and they stopped walking for a moment.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Apparently, all that you need," Snape responded. "The room magically set itself to your—requirements."

Both witch and wizard stood in almost complete darkness. Before them was a round table draped in black, with a single, thick white candle in a silver setting resting on it. Two chairs finished the dark, austere furnishing.

Snape guided her to the table and pulled out her chair. Hermione sat down hypnotically and Snape slid the chair in. He walked around the table and sat down across from her. He looked a bit disembodied, his robes blending in with the darkness, his face almost appearing to float as the candlelight flickered over his features. His black eyes shifted around the room, then rested on Hermione.

"I find this setting quite interesting. It appears, Hermione, that all you require—is me," he said to her softly.

"The room must be malfunctioning," Hermione said, lowering her eyes so he couldn't see her reaction to his softly uttered observation.

Snape considered her a moment, then his eyes narrowed.

"Hardly. But you can tell yourself that, if you like," Snape purred at her. "Whatever makes you feel most—sa . . . comfortable.

Snape picked up a napkin, which was also black, flicked it out with a flourish and laid it across his lap. He looked over at Hermione, who was studiously looking down at the table, still embarrassed about the lack of anything in the room other than him. It was so—telling about her innermost feelings she could barely stand it.

"Would you like to eat now?"

The Potions master's voice seemed to wake her up from her private reverie.

"Yes," Hermione said quickly, looking up at him, glad for anything that would offer a distraction.

This had to be the ultimate in intimate dining. No bells, no whistles, just she and he, alone, in the dark. Merlin.

"Food," Snape said shortly.

Suddenly a number of plates and bowls appeared on the table, along with utensils, neatly stacked glasses, napkins, wine, tea, pumpkin juice and milk.

"My word," Hermione breathed as she looked at the assortment of delicacies.

Snape studied the plates before him, then reached into his pocket, took out a small bottle, uncapped it, took a swig, replaced the cap and returned it to his pocket.

"What was that?" Hermione asked him.

Snape looked at her coolly.

"A potion that works as a preventative for digestive distress," he said, eyeing the food on the table. "Some of us do not have iron stomachs. I am one of them."

Hermione snorted. She didn't see anything here that should cause havoc with his digestive system. There were stuffed baby peppers, butternut, pecan, ricotta and sage pasties, fish fingers, cod bites, beef and pork Satay Sticks, mini-Yorkshire puddings with roast beef filling; mushrooms stuffed with cheese; barquettes filled with Shepard's pie, lamb curry, and beef stew, a number of . mini-bread puddings with rum sauce and a few bite-sized toffee cake. They were all very small portions, more like finger foods than anything, and she loved each and every item she saw.

The hell with Snape. He was just being contrary, as usual. Oddly, this made Hermione feel much more comfortable as she began to fill her plate with food.

"Well, you're going to love Egypt, then," she said, placing a barquette on her plate, 'the food there will give you the runs for at least three days until you get used to it."

Snape's nose was wrinkled as he selected a couple of cod bites, pasties, and a couple of mushroom, sniffing them before putting them on his plate.

"I am quite aware of the dangers of Middle-Eastern foods, thank you. The water is most suspect. Luckily, as a wizard I will be able to produce my own water, or purify what is available," Snape said, picking up a cod bite, dipping it in a bit of vinegar and eating it.

Hermione blissfully bit into a sage pastie. Gods, it was delicious and watched as Snape poured himself a glass of wine. She opted for pumpkin juice. She looked up at him curiously as he focused on eating.

"Have you made any plans for your travels?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"Yes. Egypt will be my first stop. I am taking British Airways. I've been corresponding with a wizard there, Mr. Anwar Answany, who will be providing my guide. It will be a child. A wizard." Snape said softly as he continued to eat.

Hermione was fascinated. His guide would be a child wizard?

"Why?" she asked Snape.

"Children have less guile. He's an orphan and will be better off with me than picking bollworms from the cotton fields," the wizard replied.

Hermione scowled.

"Severus, you'll be going into dangerous areas. A child could be killed," she told him.

"So could I, Hermione. So could anyone. The boy knows and by Anwar's accounts, is anxious to serve. If he does well, I will be his patron after I leave Egypt and he will be provided with all he needs to properly educated and reach adulthood. A far brighter future than he has now. He thinks it worth the risk."

"How old is he?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Ten," Snape said.

"And his parents agree to let him go traipsing across the sands with you?" she asked incredulously.

"The boy is an orphan. A street rat. Since he is always being pursued by the law for his methods of survival, stealing, he's been forced to move about the country, often fleeing to areas where no one would dare follow him. He's been left for dead many times after running into the desert and disappearing. He is very resourceful. His name is Haruun."

Hermione ate a small shepherd's pie then said, "If he's so poor, how does he have a wand?"

Snape smirked.

"He doesn't. His magic is wandless and original. He learned what he can do on his own. I plan to teach him more while he is with me," the pale wizard said. "Possibly I will sponsor him for Hogwarts."

Hermione dropped her fork.

"What?" she said, surprised. Severus Snape doing anything kind for anyone seemed out of character.

"It will be the cheapest route actually. And more secure. I can be sure the funds I spend will actually be used for his upkeep rather than to line his guardian's pockets," Snape said coolly. "Provided Haruun survives, that is. As you know, we will be going for the Elixir of Immortality. I plan to begin . . . "

Snape began to lay out his plans to Hermione, who listened in fascination as he described the initial places he and Haruun would go, and the dangers surrounding each. Some areas were heavily guarded and access restricted. They had to get past the guards to gather more information or steal maps. Several museums would be hit, although Severus planned to copy the information rather than take something so delicate and of such historical value. It was all so exciting, so—cloak and dagger.

Snape suddenly looked down at her food.

"Your food has gone cold," he said to the witch quietly. Hermione didn't hear him, her mind awhirl imagining the adventures that lay ahead for the wizard and his guide.

Snape rapped on the table with his knuckles.

"The purpose of having a meal with you is so you will consume it," he said sharply, his brow furrowed.

Hermione blinked at him.

"When you do intend to leave?" she asked him. "For Egypt?"

"My flight is booked exactly one week after Hogwarts lets out," the wizard said. "I have tickets for two seats—although I will probably have to eat the cost of one."

Hermione felt her belly turn over when the wizard told her he'd booked two seats. Clearly, one was meant for her.

"Why? Can't you just cancel it?" she asked him.

"I don't like to be seated in close proximity to any and everyone," Snape said softly. "I cannot bear the company and constant presence of most people. It is a long flight to Egypt. I prefer to be in my comfort zone during the journey if I must go alone. And according to you—I will be."

There it was. The elephant in the room.

Hermione didn't say anything as Snape continued to look at her. He stared, his chest tightening as he prepared to speak again.

"Why must you stay here, Hermione?" he asked her softly. "Immersed in this mundanity? I've assured you I will not mistreat you and you would be free to go if I did. But I would not. Why do you insist on denying yourself what it is you really want? I could see your desire in your eyes clearly when I told you my plans. Longing is radiating off of you in waves. You want to see the things I will see, do the things I will do. Why won't you admit it? There is nothing wrong with changing your mind. Witches are prone to doing just that at the drop of a Sickle. I wouldn't fault you for it. I'd welcome it—welcome you."

Hermione listened, but didn't say anything. Snape's voice became softer.

"Tell me what I have to do, to convince you to come with me? I will tell you what I told Albus Dumbledore when he asked me what I was willing to do to save Lily Potter and her family—"

Here, his voice trailed off, and a sense of heaviness and regret filled the room.

"What—what did you say?" Hermione asked, knowing that whatever it was, it was something said in vain, because Lily Potter wasn't saved, nor her husband. Harry wasn't either. He just survived Voldemort's attack. Dumbledore had not been there for them.

"My answer was 'Anything,'" Snape said hollowly, his dark eyes full of pain before they shifted towards her. "And for years after Lily's death, I did just that, Hermione. I served Albus Dumbledore in any and every capacity he desired although he broke his word to me within weeks of gaining my fidelity. I am a man capable of great commitment. I would be no less committed to you, if you accompany me."

Hermione studied the pale face across from her, Snape's gaunt, sallow features floating before her in the darkness, brows furrowed, his black eyes glinting back at her and his mouth held in a thin line. There was a slight tick in his angular jaw, pulsing as it reflexively tightened against his admission of being willing to commit to her. It had been a difficult admittance that had taken all of his resolve to actually say.

"How committed?" Hermione asked him softly.

"To death and beyond it," Snape replied, the candlelight flickering over his face giving him the appearance of something ethereal and wraith-like. It was as if he were something more than a mortal man.

Then, Hermione felt the magic, her eyes widening as the wizard's oath took place. Snape hadn't intended to take an oath, but didn't hesitate when he felt the power building within him as he spoke, because it was proof of his honesty concerning her. Now, he couldn't doubt his motives. They had been proven sincere by his own magic. He had not spoken sweet, empty words. He honestly and truly wanted the witch before him more than he wanted his own life.

"You—you took an oath," Hermione said unnecessarily.

Snape slowly nodded.

"It was not intentional, but an oath cannot be faked. I mean what I said, Hermione Granger. If you come with me I would give my life for you," he said to her.

Hermione stared at him, unable to believe this.

"You sound like a man in love," she nearly whispered.

Snape began to blink rapidly as the room seemed to heat up around him.

"I—I—" he began, then faltered, Hermione still staring at him.

Suddenly, his face contorted.

"Why do women always have to bring blasted Love into everything! Isn't it possible to get a commitment from someone without the heavens opening up above and choirs of angels singing? I didn't love Albus Dumbledore and I served him! I despised and still despise Harry Potter, but I constantly put my life on the line for him! Is that what you need, Hermione? Flowery declarations of love to make up your mind? Any man can say he loves you—it's just—just words! Be logical! The commitment would be mutual!"

"But I didn't take an oath," Hermione said quietly.

"Blast and bother! I didn't take the oath! It—it took me! By surprise!" he declared.

"You didn't look surprised," Hermione responded.

Snape fell silent, his chest rising and falling as he sought to pull himself together. He hadn't meant to explode but the L-word just, just put out there had proven too much for him. He could feel Hermione's growing power over him, and like every free-range male, he balked, ducking the lasso. He managed to calm a bit.

"Well, I was surprised. Unlike you and many others, I can contain it. The ability has saved my life more than once," he told her. "A spy cannot afford to be surprised."

"You're no longer a spy," she replied, which made Snape redden.

The witch was—infuriating.

"No. I'm not, but my reactions are still the same," he answered her. "And I find you sitting there and stating the obvious rather than addressing what I've said, quite—juvenile."

Both of Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"Juvenile? You're the one that had a hissy fit just because I said you sounded like a man in love. I didn't actually say you were in love," she said.

Snape swelled visibly. Hissy fit?

"You implied it!" he stated, shaking a finger at her now.

Hermione calmly eyed the accusing finger as he shook it and continued his tirade.

"You are engaging your—your womanly wiles in an attempt to get me to say something I have no intentions of saying," he said furiously. "Like the rest of your sex, Hermione, you are tricky, treacherous, manipulative—"

"I could say the same about Slytherins in general," Hermione said, staying cool and rather enjoying putting the snarky wizard in the hot seat.

"With Slytherins those things are virtues," he shot back at her. "With women, they are—manacles, chains and rings through the nose. You all have one objective—trapping a man into a commitment!"

Hermione didn't say a word at this statement.

She didn't have to.

Snape stared at her for several moments as the ludicrousness of his own words sunk in. He had already made the commitment and Hermione had done nothing to make him do so.

"Blast," he hissed as Hermione gave him a tiny smirk as he realized his error in logic.

If tonight proved anything, it was Severus Snape really was human after all.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope everyone had a happy holiday. :)


	30. The Scenario Short Chapter

**Chapter 30 ~ The Scenario (Short Chappie)**

Snape thought this would be a good time to turn the conversation around on Hermione. He had backed himself into a corner, and as has been said, the best defense is a good offence.

Snape gestured at the room around him.

"Well, what about this, Hermione? This room? This setting? It's obvious you feel more for me than what you are letting on. Maybe it's you who's in love," the wizard said. "You, not me. And you are completely unwilling to accept it!"

Hermione took the bait, feeling shaken at his words. She didn't know how she felt about Severus Snape, not really. But he was dark, compelling and the best lover she'd ever experienced. But love? There was no proof of love, no gentle feelings. There was strong attraction, but that could be purely physical. And he tempted her with challenge, adventure. None of that added up to love.

"That's total bullshit, and you know it. Stop trying to turn this around, Severus," she said angrily. "I don't know why the ROR looks like this. Maybe—maybe it's this way because I feel nothing at all, or there's no scenario I want with you!"

Snape stared at her, his eyes losing a bit of their glint. His face changed, became resigned. Hermione could feel the change in him and regretted what she'd said almost immediately.

"I see," he said quietly, rising. "I believe we are finished dining, Hermione. I believe—I believe we are finished with everything. You no longer have to worry about me trying to woo you away from an unsuitable life. I've said all I can say to you, have committed myself—made a fool of myself again over a woman who wants nothing to do with me. It is the last time I will ever extend myself again. I will go it alone as I always have. But—I am not cruel enough to say you will live to regret your decision to settle, to be less than who you are. In fact, it is my hope that you never know regret—as I have. It is a hurtful emotion that never leaves you once it's settled in, worse than any scourge created. The stripes of regret are more painful, because they are on the inside and never heal."

Snape walked around the table and gently drew out Hermione's chair for her.

"I'll escort you back to your quarters," he said as she rose. He gestured for her to precede him to the door.

Hermione bit her lip as she slowly walked before him. Suddenly, the need to fix this washed over her and she turned on the wizard.

"I didn't say that was the way it is, only that was the way it could be," she said to him.

Snape's cold expression didn't change.

"It doesn't matter now," he said in a low voice.

Hermione stared up at him.

"I could have been wrong—I could have just been trying to get a rise out of you," she declared.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You should be proud of your success in that case," he said, walking around her toward the door, all coldness now. She'd rejected him. He thought he could be the kind of wizard who would keep pursuing, like other men who fancied women who wouldn't give them the time of day. But, he was too proud, and pride was both a blessing and a curse. He wouldn't grovel. He wouldn't force himself on someone who didn't want him. No matter how much he wished she did. There were certain realities He was ugly, he was scarred, he was emotionally damaged. To believe that any witch would want to be with him for the long term was a stretch of the imagination. He'd never been big on imagination.

"Oh, it's so easy for you, isn't it? To just say, 'forget it,' like nothing matters but how you perceive things. The truth of the matter is you made me enter this room first because you were too cowardly to take a chance and do it yourself. You didn't want me to see what your scenario would have been. You just dropped it in my lap, when it was you who asked me to dinner."

Snape stopped walking and stood there a moment, then slowly turned to face her, the look on his face terrible.

"Did you just call me 'cowardly?'" he asked her in a very quiet voice.

It wasn't a good quiet. It was the kind of quiet that happens before all hell breaks loose. He was noticeably quivering, as if fighting some inner force trying to get out as he stared at Hermione.

"Yes I did. I'd like to know what your scenario would have been, but I guess since you've made up your mind that this is finished, that will never happen. You won't have to show me what you—require," she hissed at him disdainfully. "That takes another kind of courage than facing Dark Lords and death. A courage you don't have."

Snape stood there for a moment, then lunged forward, catching Hermione's wrist and pulling the witch against him, his face an inch from hers as he snarled down at her.

"I am not a coward," he growled, then suddenly strode for the ROR door, pushed it open and pulled Hermione into the corridor, slamming the door closed behind her. Hermione expected him to drag her all the way to her quarters, but he stood there, glowering over her head, looking at the door. He had a firm grip on her wrist still, but he wasn't hurting her. Again, he was quivering slightly.

"What are you doing?" Hermione ventured.

Snape didn't answer. He just stood there with her for several minutes. The Bloody Baron floated by silently. Other than that, there was no activity on the floor at all. Suddenly, Snape approached the ROR again, pushing the door open and pulling Hermione through, tossing her in front of him rather roughly so she stumbled. She caught her balance and looked around the room, her eyes like saucers.

"There. My scenario," the wizard said quietly, his dark eyes drinking in the setting that he knew was from his heart. It wasn't perfect. There were things, objects out of place, that didn't really belong in the positions and spaces they occupied. But it was a conglomerate of what he wanted—what he required.

They were standing on white desert sands, and the night sky was filled with both a full moon and stars. Stars were never that bright during a full moon, but the effect was dazzling. Spread before them in the distance were the Sphinx, the Great Pyramids, tombs of the Pharaohs, and lesser temples the Nile winding its way between them like a gleaming serpent in the sand.

It was beautiful. An amazing setting.

"Oh my gods," Hermione breathed. It was so realistic, but the air was temperate, not dry, and she could smell the moisture of the Nile on the breeze. Suddenly lights appeared behind the monuments. Sparkling lights laid low in the distance.

The many cities of Egypt.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the wizard said softly, walking up to Hermione and standing next to her, the sight reflected in his dark eyes before they shifted downward to look at the shocked witch. "But quite an overwhelming setting for a simple 'thank you' meal. It is the kind of setting that tempts the spirit within. What wonders there are. What—mysteries beneath the sands. One is drawn to—explore. To discover what lies beneath it all. Yes, this is my scenario for you, Hermione Granger. The true setting I want to see around you."

"This is amazing," she said softly, her eyes resting on the life-like Sphinx.

"It is Egypt," the dark wizard replied before gently turning Hermione towards him, his black eyes searching her face as she met his gaze. He slowly reached up and removed the comb from her hair, letting it drop to the sands, her hair tumbling down. He rearranged it so part of it fell over her shoulders, fluffing it a bit so it looked untamed, the way he liked it. Hermione let him do as he liked, staring up at him, noting the flash of pleasure in his eyes before he stopped and looked at her soberly.

There was a roaring in the silence between them. A crashing of waves and mountains quaking. Powerful forces of nature sung in that deceptive illusion of peace. Then Snape took action. He had no other choice, he was so compelled.

"This is the setting I want to rediscover you in," he said softly, drawing Hermione into his lean body and covering her mouth with his own.

* * *

A/N: Short, I know. But the next chapter will definitely be longer. Thanks for reading.


	31. At Last an Answer

**Chapter 31 ~ At Last an Answer**

Hermione didn't resist what was happening. Like Severus, she was compelled to receive his kiss, here under the stars and moon, here in the shadows of the pyramids, here before the undulating Nile. It wasn't real. Not the stars or moon or the monuments of Egypt. It was at most a fervent wish made visible, a dream revealed to the naked eye, a requirement not yet met.

All that was real was the wizard embracing Hermione and the urgency she felt as he claimed her mouth, his kiss soft and hungry; his body shifting against hers, lean, and familiar. As desire took the witch over, her last logical thought was only a moment before Severus had been ice, but now—now he was fire and promise and need.

Such a searing need. He was so unpredictable and volatile.

So—sexual. So irresistible here in this setting. It felt right and she could no more stop what was happening between them anymore than she could stop the world from spinning on its axis.

Snape drank in Hermione's unresisting lips as if starved for sustenance. He suckled them, first the upper, then the lower, savoring their softness, their surrender, and the surrender of her body as it pressed against his. Hungering for more, he slipped his tongue between those succulent lips, tasting her flavor, her heat as he lapped at her mouth, his head moving sensuously as he lost himself in her acceptance.

Around them, the perspective of the ROR changed. Now, they stood in the midst of the desert, the moon shining down on them, bathing them in pale light as they continued kissing, Snape's hands caressing Hermione gently and reverently. Around them were gathered the pyramids and Sphinx, the Nile rippling gently, adding a fluid rhythm to the night. It was as if they were all bearing witness to their communion.

A large pile of brightly colored cushions and pillows appeared next to the couple, some tasseled, some silken, some patterned, all firm and inviting under the sky. Snape, whose eyes were partially opened, saw the makeshift pillows and knew what was next. He stopped kissing Hermione, whose lips were still pursed, her brown eyes heated as she looked up at him, slightly confused as to why he stopped.

"Under the night sky," Snape said softly, his voice rather raw as he swept her up into his arms, took three steps and laid her down among the pillows, then knelt down and removed her shoes.

His black eyes rested on her face, watching for the slightest sign of protest. There was none. The wizard carelessly tossed the shoes into the sand and slowly climbed into the mass of pillows, letting one pale hand slide up Hermione's calf and thigh, under her dress, and over her hip, his eyes liquid as he stared down at her.

"Do you see how it could be, Hermione?" he crooned. "Not only will I take you to other lands, but I will take you as far as it is humanly possible under the stars. Just you and I, witch. Come with me."

He kissed her again, all the longing he felt pooled in his kiss. He felt Hermione's arms encircle him and his desire flared as he hardened. She was no Lily Evans. Lily Evans never welcomed him this way, not once. Hope filled his heart and he felt the tightness of the swell for a moment, before that cold, constricted part of him warmed and expanded almost painfully. He let out a groan against Hermione's mouth.

"I could love you," he murmured against Hermione's lips before pulling away and looking down at her. "I don't know if I could be the man you want me to be, but I believe if there is any woman in the world that could inspire me to feel something other than pain, it is you, Hermione Granger. Already hope is in my heart. Free me. Come with me."

As Hermione looked up at him, she could see both pain and hope in those dark, sober eyes. Then she looked up at the expanse of sky above them and listened to the ripple of the Nile singing through the night, and felt the breeze caress them, ruffling the wizard's lank hair as he stared down at her, waiting, hoping for an answer.

Hermione could feel it burst loose inside her, the longing, the need, and the desire for something, someone more than what she had. She could feel the fear as well, but it was receding, letting go to slide into the background, barely perceptible but lingering on the edge. It was madness. It was insanity. It was a risk that would change her life irreversibly no matter the outcome. Did she dare follow where her heart was leading her? Could she turn her back on the safe, secure life promised her if she'd just accept it?

She looked up at Severus, the cruel cast of his features, the hawkish nose, the glint of his eyes, the curtain of lank hair that surrounded his face as he looked back at her, sinister, dark, almost the anti-thesis of Ronald Weasley. Could she follow a man like this to the ends of the earth? Could she love him properly? There would be disagreements and arguments, power struggles, she was sure. But he had a point, if things became too difficult, she could leave. But she would come back to a very different life in wizarding England. No doubt she could continue to teach, but she would no longer have the Weasley family to call her own. But she'd still have Harry—and her parents. And there were some others who were just associates right now, but they could become friends in the future. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and a host of others. Not everything revolved around the Weasleys.

But Ron. He loved her. He wouldn't understand why she'd want to leave such a secure life. He didn't miss the excitement and danger of their younger years. He was relieved it was over and believed she should be happy with the status quo. Logically, she should be. She could live a quiet, uneventful life, teaching and raising a family. She wanted a family—just not right now. Witches were fertile for an extremely long time, some bearing children in their nineties. She was in her mid-twenties. There was plenty of time for a family. But she'd have to find a husband first—

Now, Snape looked a little impatient. He could see Hermione was thinking, but they could be doing much more under the stars than thinking. He cleared his throat a bit, and Hermione's unfocused eyes turned on him.

"Remember me?" he purred.

"Yes," she said softly, now very aware of the mountain of cushions they rested upon, Snape stretched out beside her, his face contorted slightly as he thought he should have had sex with her first then made his declarations. But, it wasn't anything he planned anyway, so hindsight didn't matter.

Hermione stared up at him, still considering as the right corner of his mouth twitched with continued impatience. She could tell he was trying to stay calm and not blow a torch at her slowness. She liked having him curb his reactions for her sake. It was promising. Finally she spoke.

"I've made my final decision," she said to him, Snape stiffening.

Hermione fell silent for a minute or two, until Snape could stand it no longer. Why was she drawing this out? Witches. Gah!

"Well, what have you decided?" he snapped.

Hermione looked around the Room of Requirement.

"I've decided that Egypt had better look something like this, Severus, or I'm going to be one very angry witch," she replied, then smiled at him softly.

Snape stared down at her, not knowing what to say. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or not, because she could change her mind again.

Then, he felt the magic of her oath stirring around them.

He blinked.

"An oath?" he asked her disbelievingly.

"Yes, but only to go to Egypt with you," she replied. "I'm not stupid enough to lock myself in for a lifetime when I don't know if I can take even two weeks of you. This way, I can hop right back on the plane at the airport if I want to, just as long as I've touched the soil with you."

Snape smirked.

"You are a very smart little witch. My chances of survival have just gone up seven-fold," he said to her softly. "Thank you."

He kissed her softly, and then drew his head back.

"And what of Mr. Weasley?" he asked her.

Hermione sighed.

"I'm just going to have to tell him that I've decided to go abroad with you," she said softly, her forehead furrowing. Snape reflexively kissed the furrows, unable to help himself, knowing that her choice to come with him was the cause of the little ridges.

"How much as you going to tell him?" Snape asked her, wondering if Hermione intended to tell him they had been lovers. If she were, he wanted to be present, in case Ron had a bad reaction and tried to do something to punish the witch.

He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't allow anyone to put one bushy hair out of place on her head. He frowned.

"As little as possible, I imagine. It's going to be hard breaking it off with him," she said softly. "He might want a long distance relationship, but—that's not going to work out."

"Damn right," Snape thought territorially.

Hermione Granger had just changed hands, and he intended to keep a very firm grip on the brilliant witch. He brushed away a lock of curly, bushy hair that had curled around her temple.

"Not, it's not," he breathed, covering her mouth again with his own, elation washing over him at the first contact with his committed companion, and maybe one day—his love.

* * *

Two days later, Ron was in his bedroom at the Burrow when Molly knocked on the door, announced Hermione had arrived and was asking for him.

"Send her up, mum," Ron said, sitting up in the bed and running his fingers through his hair.

"I told her to come up, but she wouldn't. She said she just wanted to talk to you," Molly replied. She looked a bit worried. There was something very ominous about Hermione's demeanor, and she knew about the unanswered owls she had sent.

"All right, I'll be down in a minute," Ron said, slipping on his trainers.

Molly returned downstairs and walked into the kitchen. Hermione was standing by the door as if she were a stranger in the house. Molly didn't like that either.

"Won't you have a cup of tea, dear?" the matriarch said, pulling out a chair invitingly.

"No, thank you, Molly. I won't be staying that long," she replied, not meeting Molly's eyes.

Molly was going to be devastated when she found out why she came. She loved Hermione like a daughter.

Ron walked into the kitchen, his blue eyes sober as he looked at Hermione, who was dressed in a wool hat, coat, wool pants and boots.

"Oi, Hermione," he said softly, stopping midway in the kitchen.

Molly watched them. That wasn't the usual way Ron greeted Hermione. He usually gave her a little kiss and a smile.

But Ron felt guilty about not returning her owls, and felt she wouldn't want a kiss from him. She was probably mad.

"Hi, Ron. Could you come outside? I want to talk with you for a moment. I have something important to tell you," she said softly.

"All right," Ron said, a bad feeling in his belly as he grabbed his coat off the coat rack and slipped it on. He followed Hermione out of the Burrow. Molly walked to the door and watched as they walked a distance from the house. There was a crusty bit of snow on the ground and it crunched under their feet as they walked, Ron's eyes resting on Hermione's back, noting how stiffly she walked.

When she stopped and turned to face him, he quickly said, "Hermione, I'm sorry about not returning your owls. It was just—just that I was depressed and didn't want to talk to anyone. I'm sorry."

"It's not about the owls, Ron," Hermione said.

"No? What's it about then, Hermione?" Ron asked her.

"I'm leaving. Going abroad," she said softly.

Ron looked at her incredulously.

"Abroad? What do you mean 'abroad?' Abroad as in where and for how long?" he demanded, frowning now.

"Well, first I'm going to Egypt. I'll be working on a project with Professor Snape," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice light.

"Professor Snape? Snape? Are you mad, Hermione? No one would go anywhere with Snape!" he said, his face contorted in disbelief.

"It's an opportunity to see the world and go on an adventure, Ron," Hermione said. "We're going to look for—for fabled items. Potions and elixirs."

Now Ron looked a little relieved.

"Is that what this is about? I told you, Hermione, I'd take you on a few adventures," Ron said.

Hermione shook her head.

"Those wouldn't be real adventures, Ron. It would be 'entertainment."

"What wrong with entertainment? That's what you want, isn't it? Entertainment?"

Hermione sighed.

"No, Ron. I want real adventure, challenge. If Professor Snape and I find what we're looking for it will be a very great discovery. Something meaningful. I want to do something meaningful, Ron," the witch told him.

"But—you are doing something meaningful, Hermione. You're teaching students, training up minds. You love doing that. There's no time you're happier than when forcing knowledge into a few heads," Ron said to her. "And besides, when you marry me, your life will take on even more meaning. You'll have a family."

"Ron, I want more than that, and there's plenty of time to have a family. I have until I'm ninety to have children," she responded.

Both of Ron's eyebrows rose.

"Ninety? That's madness. Who wants to be chasing babies about at ninety, Hermione?" he asked her incredulously. "It's better to have them now."

"Better for who, Ron? I'm not ready for marriage or children. I want to do something more with my life, something exciting. I'm not meant for this. I know it now," she said to him.

Ron's face grew dark.

"Not meant for what? A decent life? A good job and a husband? Children? Is that what you're not ready for, Hermione?"

"Precisely, Ron," Hermione said to him.

Ron blinked at her.

"Doesn't the fact that I love you mean anything to you at all, Hermione?" he asked her plaintively.

"Of course it does, Ron," she told him gently.

"Well, if it meant something to you, you wouldn't want to leave me like this. You wouldn't ruin my dreams!" he declared.

"If you loved me, Ronald Weasley, you wouldn't want to force me into a life that's not suitable for me. You'd want me to be happy!"

"You would be happy! With me!"

"No, I wouldn't Ron. I see it now. It's been good between us, and we gave it a good run, we really did, but I could never be happy just being a teacher and a wife. I'd be settling, Ron, and I only have one life. I don't want to waste it settling. I want to enjoy it," she told him. "I have two hundred years on this earth. I don't want to regret any of them."

"How do you know you won't regret this, Hermione? Running off with Snape. He's the snarkiest bastard on earth. It won't be easy working with him. He's a git. He'll leave you stranded if you don't do what he says. Then what would happen?"

"I'd just—come home," she told Ron, who frowned at her.

"And you expect me to be waiting for you?" he asked her, angry now.

"Actually, no. I don't expect you to put your life on hold for me, Ron," she said softly.

Ron's face twisted.

"No, I suppose you don't, considering you won't put yours on hold for me," he snarled at her. "I can't believe you'd just up and leave me, Hermione. You're going to break my mum's heart."

"You're mum has nothing to do with this, Ron. None of your family does. This is between you and me," the witch told him. But she did have a bit of a sick feeling in her belly thinking about Molly's reaction.

"But, you've practically been family since you were at Hogwarts. Are you going to turn your back on everyone who loves you, Hermione? There's more than just me!"

"Stop it! Stop trying to make me feel guilty about wanting to experience my life to the fullest," Hermione hissed at him. "I'm not being selfish. This is my life, Ron. My life! I'm not obligated to anyone but myself when you get right down to it."

Ron stared at her.

"You are being selfish, Hermione, as selfish as you can possibly be. You're turning your back on all of us, just because you're going through some kind of—of crisis. I bet you came up with this just because I didn't answer your owls. To pay me back. To hurt me."

"That's not true, Ron. Snape made me the offer at the Gift Exchange weeks ago. I've been thinking about it ever since," she told him. "You not returning my owls had nothing to do with it."

Ron shook his head.

"And you didn't even think to tell me anything about it? Or to ask my opinion?" he said to her reproachfully.

"No, I didn't. It was my decision to make, Ron. Not yours. I have my own mind," Hermione shot back at him.

"I don't know about that. It seems as if your mind has gone complete batty if you ask me. Turning your entire life upside down to travel with Professor Snape? Just the very idea of it should have you put in St. Mungo's for observation. It's madness, Hermione. What would Harry say?"

Hermione turned red. Ron was bringing up everyone in an effort to make her feel guilty. But he was failing and only pissing her off.

"Who cares what Harry says? He's not my father!" she snapped at him.

Ron pounced.

"Well, what does your father say? I know he's not going to like you running off with a wizard twice your age and meaner than a basilisk!"

"I'm not a child, Ron. My father doesn't make my decisions for me any longer! And Professor Snape is a brilliant, talented wizard," she cried, defending the dark wizard.

"He's a fucking bastard who probably wants to use you and toss you aside the minute he finds what he's looking for. He might be a hero, Hermione, but he's not a good man at all, by any stretch. Look how he acts. He doesn't care about anyone other than Harry's dead mum. He's like a ghoul or something, wanking off over the dead."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! That's an absolutely horrible thing to say!" Hermione screeched at him.

"It's true, Hermione, and you know it! He has no human compassion, no feelings at all that aren't hateful. He's walking Misery, that's what he is, and he likes to spread it around! Going with him anyplace is pure madness! I won't let you do it!"

"What?" Hermione cried, outraged. "You won't let me—why you big, overbearing prat! You don't own me! You can't forbid me to do anything!"

"You're my girlfriend! I have a right to say—"

"Not anymore, I'm not! Ron, I came here to break this to you reasonably, but you're acting like a Neanderthal! I can't travel and have a boyfriend. I have no idea when I'll be back or even if I'll be back! We have to break up and live our separate lives!"

"No! I'm not going to let you—" Ron cried, his eyes wet now as he lunged for Hermione, who ran back and pulled out her wand, pointing it at the crazed wizard.

Molly, who was watching them argue from the window, screamed as she saw Hermione blast her son backward, then Disapparate. Ron lay on the ground, unmoving.

"No! Ron!" she screamed, running out of the door and stumbling through the crusty snow.

* * *

A/N: I know I skipped the lemon, but I thought it would be more suitable actually happening in Egypt. :) Besides, I had to get to the "break-up" scene. But somehow, I don't think this is over yet. Notice how Ron doesn't even consider there's anything going on between Snape and Hermione? It's because he finds the wizard so repulsive, he can't even wrap his mind around the possibility. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	32. And the Drama Continues

**Chapter 32 ~ And the Drama Continues**

When Ron awoke, he found himself seated in the living room in Arthur's chair, his mother pressing a cold cloth to his head and clucking over him. George was seated across from him. His father wasn't home yet.

"Ronald Weasley, haven't you learned not to crowd Hermione? This isn't the first time she's stunned you during an argument," his mother scolded him as he sat up and tried to focus. He pushed her hands away.

"But mum, I was just going to hug her and try and talk some sense into her," Ron said, holding his forehead in his hand for a moment, then blinking across at George, who had his arms folded and was shaking his head ruefully.

"I saw how you charged her. I would have stunned you too," Molly said, frowning at her son. "I taught you better than that! That's no way to treat a lady."

"Hermione's no lady, believe me," Ron replied. "She's a witch all right, but no lady."

Molly scowled at him, then threw up her hands.

"Honestly," she huffed, leaving the living room. "I just don't understand you sometimes, Ronald."

George watched Molly go, then stood up and walked over to Ron, looking down at him.

"You went and told her about the blow job, didn't you?" he asked his brother.

"No! I didn't do that. She—she broke up with me because she's going to go traveling with Professor Snape. He's given her a job or something, the greasy bastard."

It took a moment for this to sink in.

"What?" George intoned rather stupidly, moving aside as Ron stood up.

"She's going to work with Snape. Abroad," Ron said. "And she broke up with me so she could do it. She's leaving Hogwarts too, as far as I know. I mean—she has to if she does it."

George took this in, then shook his head.

"Tough luck, Ron, but you were lucky to have her as long as you did. Hermione's just not really meant to be a housewitch, you know?"

Ron looked at his brother incredulously.

"What? What are you saying, George? You were all for me marrying her," Ron said. "You, Charlie, Bill, everyone."

"Yeah, well, you seemed to have your heart set on it, so no one wanted to bust your bubble, Ron. And it seemed she was willing to settle for being your wife—"

"Settle? What the hell do you mean 'settle?' There's nothing wrong with being my wife. I'd be a good father and provider, just like dad," Ron said defensively.

"I'm not saying you wouldn't, Ron, but—some witches need more than that," George said carefully. "Some need lives of their own. Not everyone is meant to be mum. Dad lucked up. There's not a lot of Molly Weasleys out there. You—you just aimed too high and Hermione, she—well I don't know what she was thinking. Maybe she was just being loyal to you because you were friends first, you know?"

Ron frowned at his brother.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't even have a steady girlfriend. You never have," Ron sneered at him.

"Oh, and you think it's because I couldn't get one?" George shot back at him. "I'm not in any rush to settle down, Ron. There's a lot of witches out here and I'm going through as many of them as I can until I find the right one, and you can ask dad, the first one usually isn't the right one."

Ron stood there a moment, staring at the floor.

"I'm going to go talk to Snape," he said sullenly. "Maybe he'll retract the job offer if I lay it all on the line to him."

George raised both eyebrows.

"Snape? You think Snape is going to help you? Snape isn't going to care about your relationship with Hermione. What kind of job is it?"

"Seeking out potions and elixirs," Ron told him.

George shook his head.

"Potions and elixirs? Ron, I hate to tell you, but you're screwed. Snape gets wood over those things. If he's hired Hermione to help him, it's because he really thinks she can do it. He's not going to retract the job offer, believe me."

"I can still talk to him, and tell him how I feel about it, what Hermione's going to lose if she goes with him. Her job, security—me, a family of her own. He has to have a heart somewhere in his greasy body."

"Ron, you remember that short we saw at the Muggle movies once. The Grinch?"

Ron did remember it. A furry green man that lived on a mountainside and hated anything to do with Christmas. He stole all the Whatzits' presents and acted a real prat before he had a change of heart.

"Yeah?"

"Snape's heart is probably five times smaller than his was, if he even has one."

"I'm still going to talk to him," Ron said stubbornly.

George shook his head.

Later that evening, Molly and Arthur found out about Hermione's decision.

"She is quitting her job?" Molly asked Ron, who sat there miserably.

"She has to be. That's the only way she could go with that git," Ron muttered.

Molly shook her head.

"Someone needs to talk some sense into her. I know Severus Snape played a major role in the downfall of Voldemort, but he's still not the kind of wizard one should trust. Deception is practically his middle name and a manticore can't change its scales," she said, frowning. "Imagine, giving up a secure future to go hunting—potions. It's madness."

Arthur didn't offer anything. He was too wise to actually say Hermione had a right to do what she pleased. Molly had a very controlling nature while he was quite a mellow man. It was how they got on so well.

"I'm going to go talk to Professor Snape tomorrow, to see if he'll retract his offer," Ron told his parents.

Arthur's brow furrowed. He was familiar with Severus to some extent. The wizard was the very epitome of determination once his mind was set on something. He'd go through nearly anything to accomplish his goals. Look at what he suffered through for the Order. Ron was going to have a hard time of it if he approached the snarky wizard.

"Ron, I don't think Hermione would appreciate you approaching her employer," Arthur ventured, hoping that the threat of invoking more of Hermione's wrath might make Ron change his mind.

"She's already furious with me, so what difference does it make?" Ron replied. "I'm going to talk to him wizard to wizard. It's what I have to do."

"Maybe I should go with you, Ronald," Molly offered, thinking her presence might help.

"No, because if he says anything nasty to you, I'll have to hex him, mum. Let me handle it, all right?"

All of them knew Snape was perfectly capable of saying a number of nasty things off the top of his greasy head at any given moment. Most of the things that came out of his mouth were nasty, the sour bat.

"Fine, Ronald, but I don't want any dueling, understand me? You're going to be on Hogwarts property and he's staff. The law will be on his side if any hexes fly. Try being civil. Appeal to his better side," Molly advised.

George snorted. He knew Ron would be wasting his time.

"What better side? Both of Snape's sides are rotten," he interjected. "He's going to toss you out on your ear, mark my words."

"He won't be tossing me anyplace," Ron growled as Arthur shook his head.

He hoped this didn't go too badly.

* * *

Hermione returned to Hogwarts rather late in the evening. Snape had been hovering around the third floor turret windows since after supper, when she left, watching for her return. He let out a little sigh of relief as he watched her stalk across the grounds of Hogwarts, taking long angry strides, her fists clenched at her sides. It looked as if she were muttering to herself.

Hm. Her conversation with Mr. Weasley must not have gone too well. He swooped away from the window and hurried down to the first floor landing to wait by her quarters. After several minutes, Hermione came storming down the corridor. And he was right, she was muttering.

"Of all the stupid, asinine, idiot things to say to me—" she grumbled, stopping in front of her door and not even noticing Snape as she pulled out her wand.

"He's lucky that's all I did to him—"

"I take it your discussion with your beau wasn't a—cakewalk," Snape purred at her.

Hermione looked up at him, startled for a moment.

"Why don't you make a sound or something?" she snapped at him, her irritation at Ron boiling over to cover the Potions master as well.

"Hm. Displaced aggression. Nice. I didn't believe you had it in you," Snape said softly. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

Hermione removed the ward and opened her office door.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Severus."

"Who said I was joking? O find it refreshing to see a Gryffindor being less than fair and not feel the need to feel guilty or apologize," he responded.

"You would. Are you coming in?" she asked him, scowling.

"Just for a moment. I have papers to mark," the wizard said, following her into her office and closing the door behind him.

Although they had committed to traveling together, they still were not at the point of kissing in greeting. Snape had a ways to go with that. It wasn't his nature to be demonstrative just for the sake of being so. There was a purpose to his kisses when he gave them, and that was usually to receive much more than kisses.

He watched as Hermione angrily shrugged out of her coat and ripped off her hat, hanging them on the coat rack. Then she walked behind her desk and plopped into her chair with a long exasperated sigh.

Snape waited for her to calm down, standing there, his black eyes resting on her. Finally she spoke.

"I had to stun him," she said. "He went for me, and I had to stun him."

Snape's brow furrowed.

"He 'went' for you?" he asked her in a low voice. His wand hand involuntarily twitched as he repeated her words.

Hermione looked up at Snape.

"I don't mean went for me to hurt me. He was going to put me in a bear hug, to 'try and talk some sense' into me. That's how he is. He's been hexed before for doing it, but he never seems to learn. He only does it when he's emotional."

Snape relaxed somewhat.

"So, I imagine he knows then," Snape said.

"Yes, he knows. He was a total git about it, but he knows. He threw gobs of guilt at me."

"And do you feel guilty?" Snape asked her.

"A bit. Only where Molly is concerned. I thought—I thought I'd feel worse about breaking up with Ron, but after that big fight we had, I really don't feel that bad at all. I think it's because I realize he really doesn't care about what I want. It's what he wants that's most important. That's not love—that's ownership. No one owns Hermione Granger but Hermione Granger."

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, thinking he certainly 'owned' her Christmas morning. They never did have sex that night in the ROR, Hermione deciding to 'talk' about the 'rules.'

Rules. She was a manipulative little minx. Snape could have refused any one or all of the little laws she laid down because of the oath, but then she could do just as she threatened, touch down in Egypt, and then head right back to England. He had very little barter room at all. But he kind of liked the way she had tied his hands. Not many could do it. Then again, Hermione did pluck at his emotions, and emotions always threw a wizard off his game. Especially one not used to sharing them. Hermione was going to take some getting used to, but he was sure it would all be worth it in the end.

"Well, I am glad that you handled your beau," Snape said softly.

"Former beau,' Hermione corrected him.

"Ah, yes. Former beau," Snape said, reaching into his inner robes pocket and drawing out something small. He stepped closer to the desk and handed it to Hermione. She took it and looked shocked.

"A corporate credit card?" she spluttered.

It was green and silver and simply read: Snape Enterprises, Inc.

It had her name on it.

"Use that to get your passport and anything else you feel you might need in preparation for our trip. It is good in both wizarding and Muggle England. Always use it so I can have an account of my expenditures for when I recoup my money," the dark wizard said. "If you spend your own money, you will not be reimbursed for it."

Yes, Snape was very attracted to Hermione, but business was business.

"How generous of you," Hermione said sarcastically, pocketing the card.

Snape's mouth quirked.

"See? I am already improving, Socialization is doing wonders for me," he replied just as sarcastically, and then gave her a bow.

"I must go," he said to the witch.

"Good night, Severus," Hermione said rather awkwardly now. She wasn't sure exactly what they were, or if she should initiate some form of intimate contact. But she didn't have a chance.

"Good night," Snape replied, billowing out of her office and closing the door behind him.

Hermione let out a sigh, then took out the credit card and studied it.

"I hope I made the right choice," she sighed.

* * *

A/N: So Ron, in his infinite wisdom, has decided Snape is the wizard to talk to concerning this madness. Lol. This ought to be good. Thanks for reading. ***


	33. Weasley and Snape Have a Discussion

**Chapter 33 ~ Weasley and Snape Have a Discussion**

Ron leaned against the wall next to the rusted suit of armor next to the double doors leading into the Hogwarts' entrance hall. When Filch was summoned to the gates earlier, he found Ron there.

"What your business at Hogwarts?" the old squib asked him as Ron marveled that he was still around. He did this every time he saw the old caretaker. He almost suspected Filch owned an underutilized Sorcerer's Stone that kept him just alive enough to be perpetually crotchety and bad-tempered.

He and Hermione argued about it, Hermione stating that Filch would have stopped aging long before he became old. Ron disagreed.

"We don't really know what Dumbledore did with the stone in our first year. Maybe he gave it to Filch to keep him going a bit longer," Ron theorized, getting a punch in his arm from Hermione in exasperation.

Ron told Filch he had come to see Professor Snape.

"Do you have an appointment?" Filch asked him, squinting one eye so he looked like a geriatric pirate.

"No, but I'm sure he'll see me," Ron replied as Filch opened the gate. There was a spell on it that only let staff and students in and out. All others would get a nasty shock as a warning to sod off.

"I doubt it. Professor Snape sees no one without an appointment. It's his way. But you can try," Filch replied, watching as Ron strode strongly away and once more cursing his arthritic limbs.

Now Ron waited by the armor for Snape to rise from the dungeons like vampires rose from the dead. He decided to take the 'Tough Guy/Hermione's not Ready' approach. He was bigger than Snape now, and broader. He had about two inches and at least thirty pounds on him.

Like that would actually make a difference to the Potions master if Ron pissed him off. In the small world of Severus Snape, Ron was just a bigger target for his wand tip.

Hermione suddenly appeared on the first floor landing and walked down the marble stairs, students swarming after her. Ron tried to make himself very small, and luckily, she didn't notice him as she turned down the corridor that led to the teacher's entrance to the Great Hall. A good thing, too. There would definitely have been another row if she'd found out what he was up to.

Students soon erupted from the dungeon entrance next to the marble stairs as if they were being vomited up, and presently, Snape whooshed up from the darkness, striding toward the corridor Hermione went down. Ron quickly walked after him.

"Professor Snape! I'd like a word with you," he called after the dark wizard.

Snape stopped and slowly turned, an unpleasant look on his face as Ron approached him. Ron tried to make himself look bigger.

"I need to talk to you man to man," he said to the smaller wizard. Snape studied him, thinking it would be hard for the Weasley lad to do that, considering the only man standing there was Snape himself. Ron still lived with his mummy.

"You do not have an appointment, Mr. Weasley. I never see anyone without an appointment. You should remember that from when you attended the school," Snape said quietly. "I am on my way to lunch now. Owl me, and I'll give you a date and time."

Snape spun and began to billow up the hall.

"It's about Hermione Granger. You've hired her to work with you, but—but there are some issues you don't know about. Issues that would make her a—a liability," Ron said desperately.

Snape stopped walking. Issues? Oh, this was too good. His curiosity as to what depths Ron would sink to in order to sabotage Hermione's decision overrode his natural urge to make Ron come back and he slowly turned to face him.

"Liabilities, you say?" the wizard purred, walking back toward Ron.

"Yes, professor. You need to hear this. Really," Ron urged.

Snape studied him.

"Very well. I suppose I can have my lunch in my office while we talk. Give me a moment."

Ron watched as Snape summoned a house elf. The wizard leaned down and quietly told the elf what he wanted for lunch.

The little creature's ears flattened, its eyes wide as it looked into Snape's pale visage.

"Yes, sir. Right away we makes it, sir," the elf squeaked before winking away, looking quite taken aback.

Snape straightened and looked at Ron coolly.

"Follow me, Mr. Weasley," he said, turning and billowing toward the dungeons again, then disappearing down the dark, narrow stairway. Ron followed.

Snape walked before him, just as quietly as he did when Ron attended Hogwarts. He had a kind of glide to his step that always made it seem as if he were slinking without doing so. Everything about Snape seemed to shout "sneaky." It was a wonder that Voldemort never caught on he was a spy. The man inspired distrust.

They arrived at Snape's office and Snape opened the door, entering, Ron following behind. Snape pointed to the rickety wooden chair in front of his desk imperiously.

"Have a seat, Mr. Weasley," the wizard said, sweeping behind his own desk and sitting down in his comfortable, leather-upholstered swivel chair. He wriggled a bit, making a production of getting nice and comfy as the wooden chair's seat dug into Ron's butt bones. He remembered this chair.

Suddenly, a house-elf appeared, handing Snape a plate with a sandwich on it, wrapped in wax paper. The elf was facing away from Ron, so he didn't see the clothespin on the creature's long nose.

"Your lunch, sir," the elf said in a somewhat nasally squeaky voice this time.

It winked out.

"You can begin, Mr. Weasley," Snape said, unwrapping his sandwich. It was on dark bread, perhaps rye or pumpernickel.

"Well, see, professor, Hermione accepted your job offer when she was in a very upset state of mind. She wasn't thinking clearly," Ron told the wizard, who picked up a half of the sandwich and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully.

"You see, she and I had a bit of a tiff, a personal matter and I—I wanted some space so we weren't in communication. She accepted your offer just to spite me, professor, not because she's interested in the job. You know how witches can get. She's—too emotional, don't you think? I mean, to just toss away everything because you're mad at someone isn't something someone with all their crackers in place would do. You need someone steady, who can think with her head and not her emotions."

Snape studied Ron. He thought he'd extended Hermione a job offer? That she "worked" for him? Hm. Interesting. What was also interesting was the way Ron was trying to lower his opinion of the witch, make him think she was unstable and unsuitable. Very nasty business from a wizard who was supposed to 'love' her.

Suddenly, Ron's nose wrinkled up as a stench hit him. It was horrible, a mixture of sweaty feet and onions. His blue eyes watered up as he stared at Snape's sandwich.

"What. Is. That?" Ron rasped.

Snape studied the sandwich, inadvertently waving it around in the air as he did so.

"A Limburger cheese and onion on rye," he purred back at the wizard rather breathily, adding more stench. A limburger and onion sandwich tasted much better than it smelled, but from where Ron was sitting, who cared?

Now, Snape enjoyed this kind of sandwich, but rarely ate it when in mixed company. For Ron, he made an exception. Even the house elves were appalled, drawing straws to see who actually had to make the foul-smelling food. The house elf who delivered the order was exempt from the contest, since he had to actually bring it to Snape.

Ron pulled out his wand to cast a freshening spell, but Snape stopped him.

"Mr. Weasley, you don't do magic in my domain without asking," he snapped at the wizard. Ron fought the urge to pull his shirt over his nose.

"I want to cast a freshening charm. The—the aroma of your sandwich disagrees with me," Ron explained reasonably.

Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

"One of the key enjoyments of eating this type of sandwich is its lingering scent. It adds to the experience, I have a rather developed olfactory sense, Mr. Weasley, so enjoy the smell more than most."

Yeah, he probably would with those huge windsuckers he called nostrils. It was a wonder anyone could be in the same room with him and not die from lack of oxygen.

"Since you are in my domain, you will simply have to bear with it, or leave," Snape added, enjoying Ron's discomfort.

Ron didn't say anything more about the sandwich, but waited patiently for Snape to finish it and address him. Snape made short work of the sandwich, sucked each finger delicately, tossed the pungent wax paper into the trash and set his plate aside. Then he folded his fingers on his desk and looked at Ron with glinting eyes.

"Miss Granger is a fine Charms mistress, Mr. Weasley, and a very talented one. You want me to believe she isn't up to—the job I've offered her?"

"No sir, she accepted under duress. She'll abandon you when she comes back to her senses. Then where would you be?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Weasley. Exactly what is it that Miss Granger will be 'tossing' away if she—takes this 'job?'"

"Well, first her secure position at the school as a Charms mistress. Hogwarts has great long-term benefits," Ron stated, "plus, she'd be leaving me behind, we're betrothed you know, informally. We have been for the longest time. I recently popped the question and she was thinking about it before all this happened. She can have a good, secure life here in wizarding England. Everyone wants that."

Snape studied Ron and slowly began to shake his head.

"Unbelievable," the wizard sneered.

Ron blinked at him. What the hell was Snape talking about?

"I would never have thought that you, Ronald Weasley, were such a selfish, treacherous wizard. You could have done well in Slytherin house, except you are cunning as a rock. It is clear that you have approached me not for my sake, or Miss Granger's sake, but for your own sake. She's made a decision to travel with me and you are seeking to sabotage her choice by coming to me directly and making her seem unsuitable for the task.

Ron reddened, but said nothing.

"Luckily, I am very familiar with both the witch's abilities and temperament. She isn't led by emotion, Mr. Weasley, but by logic. I made her an offer just before Christmas, and since you were sending her gifts last week, I deduce that whatever little spat you had, happened long after I told her about the opportunity. I have no reason to believe her acceptance is a snap decision on her part, but one she's given thought to. Great thought. If you had gone to any other potential employer, no doubt she would have lost her position before she even had it. Sabotage is a nasty business, Mr. Weasley, but you have to go about it properly, which you didn't. If you wanted me to retract my offer based on what you've told me, you've failed miserably."

Ron leaned toward Snape desperately.

"Look, professor—I want Hermione to be my wife. If she goes off with you, that will never happen. She'll—she'll—"

"Find a life outside the one you've been carefully grooming her for, Mr. Weasley? I know your type. You are abusive and controlling."

Ron's face went black.

"I am not! I've never mistreated Hermione! Ever!" he declared.

"Yes, you have. The main indication of a man who would control every aspect of a woman's life is his tendency to keep her isolated, solely in the sphere of influence he deems suitable. Usually, that sphere is devoid of anything remotely inspiring anything other than the attributes that man wants forced on that unfortunate woman. In your case, Mr. Weasley, you've kept Miss Granger in the sphere of your family and jealously so. I imagine you've kept her away from intelligent endeavors other than the mindless, repetitive teaching of students at Hogwarts to give her the illusion she's using her mind, which she isn't. Not allowing a person to reach or even aspire to their aspirations is abuse, plain and simple. You might not be striking Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, but you've locked her in a tower made of straw, manacling her with your manipulations, even resorting to psychological and emotional blackmail if she even suggests she do something for herself. You think this is love?"

Ron's face twisted.

"And what's a dark, lonely bastard like you know about Love, other than it's moldering in a grave?" Ron snapped at him. "You've been in love with a corpse for years, you bloody necrophiliac! You don't know what it is to love a woman! Not a living one at any rate."

Ron had lost it. The truth of what Snape said was driven home and now he wanted to hurt the wizard.

Snape fought the urge to leap up and hex Ron to sleep. He was better at hiding how he felt than when he was with Hermione. This was more like what he was used to as a spy, being insulted and accused, unable to physically react. He kept his cool and responded.

"No, I don't have much experience in that area, Mr. Weasley," Snape admitted, "but I have vast experience in the methods you are using to keep Miss Granger under your thumb. It was used quite often by Voldemort to keep his Death Eaters loyal. Isolation and targeted influence. You're no better than the Dark Lord when it comes to that young woman. What I am witnessing here is a last desperate attempt to get her back in your prison. I will not help you close the door on Miss Granger. She has far too much potential for the life you would tie her to. She will be an excellent companion during my travels, and I will not give her up now that she's accepted."

"You selfish bastard," Ron hissed. "She could be happy here."

"If she felt she could be happy here, Mr. Weasley, she would never have consented to accompany me. She is not going to be my employee, Mr. Weasley, but my partner. She will receive equal credit for our discoveries."

"P—p-partner?" Ron gasped. "But, she has no money to invest in something as expensive as world travel. How could she be your partner?"

"Because I am going to supply the money for her travel and upkeep, then recoup it at a later date after a few successes. That way I don't have to dish out a salary to her," Snape said, thinking this might help keep Ron from thinking he had any other designs on Hermione, although it was obvious the young wizard thought it was all strictly business.

"That's not fair," Ron hissed.

"It's good business, Mr. Weasley, and more importantly, Miss Granger accepts it as such. Now that we understand each other, I believe you should go," Snape said, pulling out his wand and flicking it at the office door, which clicked and swung open.

Ron stood up and glowered at him.

"George told me I was wasting my time," Ron growled at him.

"Your brother George has always shown a surprising amount of uncouth wisdom for a Weasley, not to mention a Gryffindor. You should have listened to him. Your feelings about a situation that involves me doesn't matter a whit, Mr. Weasley. You could have talked to the gates of the castle and received a better response," Snape purred at Ron, whose blue eyes were narrowed with hatred now.

"This isn't right!" Ron declared vehemently.

"Right, wrong or otherwise, Mr. Weasley, the situation is what it is, and I have no desire to change it. Good day."

There was a bit of iron in Snape's voice as he dismissed the red haired wizard a second time. The third time was the charm—or in this case the hex if he had to dismiss him again.

"Fine, I'm leaving, but you're helping Hermione to ruin her life," Ron said as he rose and backed toward the door.

"It won't be the first life I've ruined if that is indeed the case, Mr. Weasley," Snape said coldly. "I'm quite good at it."

Ron glared at him, then turned and stalked from his office without another word.

Snape flicked his wand at the door and slammed it behind him for emphasis, feeling like a million Galleons. That had been rather cathartic.

The dark wizard leaned back in his chair and placed his arms behind his head.

Hermione was definitely free of Ronald Weasley.

For the first time in a long, long time, Severus Tobias Snape felt all was right with the world.

* * *

A/N: Well, that went well for Snape. Poor Ron. Ah well, such is life.


	34. Realization

**Chapter 34 ~ Realization**

Surrounded by family, Ron lamented Snape's refusal to retract his offer to Hermione. Harry and Ginny listened closely, Harry's green eyes narrowed slightly.

"You say he asked her before Christmas and she didn't tell you about it?" Harry asked him.

Ron nodded glumly.

"Why would she hide something like that?" Harry wondered. "That doesn't sound like Hermione."

In fact, it did sound like Hermione. She didn't talk about a lot of things on her mind because she felt they would be shot down before they could be discussed logically. If things weren't Ron or marriage-oriented, they were heartily discouraged. Of course, no one recognized this fact. Harry had been indoctrinated into the Weasley way of thinking ages ago. He and Ginny were practically walking up the aisle. However, Ginny was the right witch for Harry, and not his first. His first was Cho Chang, who didn't work out.

"Maybe I should talk to her, find out what's what," Harry said. "It's a really drastic step for somebody to take out of the blue. Sounds suspicious to me."

Ginny looked at Harry's furrowed brow.

"Do you think magic's involved?" she asked him.

Harry didn't know. Snape had been in his corner for years, he knew that much, but he wasn't sure about his character. If the Potions master wanted something bad enough, he might be capable of anything. He knew a lot about potions and elixirs. If anyone could possibly sneak in a bit of magic to help Hermione make a decision in his favor—Snape could.

"Maybe dark magic," Ron interjected, grasping at anything that could throw a wrench into the gears of Snape's machinations.

"But would Snape do that? Manipulating a person with magic is punishable by imprisonment. He barely escaped Azkaban when Voldemort died. It's hard to believe he'd do anything to put himself at risk," Bill said doubtfully.

Fleur was silent. She felt Hermione had a right to leap off the end of the earth if she wanted to do it. Fleur was all for independent witches. She had married Bill because she loved him, not to wait on him hand and foot or be a baby machine. But she had her own pursuits, just as Bill had his, and it worked for them. Love was about two people being themselves and coming together as one, rather than merging into one whole and losing their identity.

That was what was intrinsically wrong with Ron and Hermione's relationship. To be what Ron wanted, Hermione would have to not be who she was.

And that's precisely why she was going with Snape, to reconnect to the young woman she had nearly forgotten in her attempt to fit in and be "normal" according to the standards of those around her. But it was hard for those who loved her, and who accepted the "normal" life, to accept her choice not to immerse herself in it.

So, Harry told everyone he'd do some investigating, to try and find out what was going on.. First, Harry checked with the Headmistress and found out that Hermione had indeed put in her resignation for the end of the term. Since Harry and Hermione were friends, Minerva had no problem discussing her Charms teacher with him.

"It just happened out of the blue, Harry. I was shocked. Hermione is a wonderful teacher and had a long, bright future here. She would have become tenured and had job security. I just couldn't believe she wanted to leave us. Normally, she is so—logical about things. She's definitely acting out of character," Minerva said with a sigh. "Now, I have to replace two fine teachers. But Severus, I can understand him needing a change of scenery. He's been here for years, and has many dark memories, but Hermione is just starting out. It's very strange and unexpected."

Harry then informed her that Hermione would be accompanying Snape, and the witch was gobsmacked. Hermione just said she was entering a new field of work. She didn't give any details.

"She traveling with Severus? Oh, my. I'm not sure if that is a wise decision at all. From what I understand, his travels will be fraught with peril. He'll be traveling to little visited parts of the world, many of them uncivilized. It could become very dangerous," she said worriedly.

As Harry left Hogwarts, he thought about the situation with a clearer perspective. Hermione was a good defensive fighter, one of the best he'd ever seen. She was fast too, and probably had forgotten more spells than Harry knew. No, that's not right, more than likely Hermione remembered every single one she'd ever encountered. She had always been the best duelist out of himself, her and Ron. If Snape were looking for someone to help him navigate dangerous places, Hermione really was a good choice. She was tough too, or at least, she used to be—

On his way home, Harry began to really think about Hermione now as compared to the Hermione he knew at Hogwarts. She loved to be challenged back then, and was never happier than when trying to figure out some mystery. For him, it had been a matter of having to face the peril he was in, but Hermione had chosen to do it of her own free will. Even Ron bailed on him when things got rough, for a little while, but Hermione never faltered.

When it was all over, the only challenging thing Hermione had left was to finish Hogwarts with high marks, which she did easily. It was all rather downhill after that. Harry himself was perfectly happy with a normal, peril-free life. He would never have chosen the life of his younger years if it wasn't forced on him.

Ron was deeply affected by the deaths of his brother, friends and associates during those dark years, and felt extremely lucky to have survived himself. He'd had enough "danger" to last a lifetime. He didn't need to be challenged any further. He'd been challenged enough.

For Hermione though, there were no more challenges, no more mysteries in the wizarding world as it was now.

Harry blinked as he began to see why Hermione would want to go with Snape. Because, all in all, her life was dull. There was no challenge anywhere. Everything from here on out would be nice and predictable, which was fine if you were the kind of person that liked nice and predictable.

Snape didn't have to use any magic on Hermione to make this decision. He probably told her his plans and it all went from there. She wasn't happy—she really wasn't happy with what she had now. And although it seemed cold of her to just dump Ron and take off for parts unknown, it was better than her staying here and never doing anything that was in her heart to do. But in order to follow her heart, she had to make a choice.

And she'd made it.

Harry sighed. He knew Ron wasn't going to like his findings. But he had to be honest with him. That's what friends did.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Ron! I'm not siding with Snape," Harry said to his irate friend. "Snape really has very little to do with this other than he's a means to an end, a way for Hermione to pursue a more exciting life than the one she's living now."

"She doesn't need an exciting life. She needs to be a normal witch," Ron said vehemently.

Harry's eyes went dark behind his glasses. Didn't Ron care how Hermione felt at all?

"No, Ron—you need to find somebody who likes a quiet, peaceful life, not try to change someone who doesn't. Hermione's just doing what's best for her," Harry said, "and if you really cared about her, you'd see it was the right thing for her to do!"

"Sounds like you and Snape read the same book," Ron grumbled. "He accused me of isolating her to keep her from doing anything else. Isn't that ridiculous?"

Harry didn't answer him. Ron did keep Hermione around the Burrow and his mum quite a bit.

"Isn't it?" Ron pressed, frowning now.

Harry drew in a deep breath.

"Ron, you know you're my best mate, and I'd never purposely try and hurt your feelings, but—Hermione has a right to be happy, and she's not happy with this life. She was just settling for it. She wants to be out in the world discovering new things, using her mind. What good is being brilliant if you never get the chance to show how brilliant you are?"

"But everyone already knows she's brilliant. She's proven that already," Ron said sullenly. "She doesn't have to keep showing it off!"

"Ron, she's never going to stop being brilliant. But she has to use that brilliance or it's going to go stale. Can't you see that? If she doesn't do anything meaningful with her smarts, then they're just a waste."

"Teaching students is doing something meaningful," Ron declared.

"No, that's just passing what she already knows on over and over again. It's like working on an assembly line, just with children year after year. Imagine her working in a factory just dropping things in boxes. The same thing in different boxes, hour after hour, day after day, year after year. Don't you think that would be a waste considering what she's capable of doing with her mind?"

"It's not the same thing," Ron said. "There's satisfaction in making someone smarter."

"You don't know if it's that way for Hermione, Ron. Maybe she wants to continue getting smarter as well. I bet you if there were universities in the wizarding world, Hermione would be taking all the courses available."

Ron knew Harry was right. He'd hardly see Hermione if she could have continued going to school.

"Look, Ron, nobody is at fault here. Hermione hasn't gone crazy and Snape hasn't given her any potion or done anything more than offer to give her what she wants. Challenge and adventure. You can't give her that, Ron. You're a different kind of bloke. You're a good guy, but you just want to live a good life and have a wife, a home and a family. To accomplish that would make you feel like a success. But that's not for Hermione, not if she really wants to be happy. She's complicated—and you're not. What you need to do, Ron is just be glad about the time you had with her and wish her well. Being angry isn't going to solve anything. At least you could part friends. Good friends are hard to find. I'm going to go now."

* * *

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* * *

Ron plopped down on his bed and didn't say good-bye to Harry as he left. Instead, he scowled at the floor for several minutes, going over what Harry had to say about Hermione. Presently, he sighed.

Harry was right, and Ron had been too selfish to see it. No, that wasn't correct. Ron did see it, but didn't want to acknowledge it. He had always felt Hermione was out of his league, but she stayed with him anyway, and he began to feel—entitled to her affections rather than appreciative of them. Whenever he felt her moving away from him, he pulled her back in as if on a line, demanding more of her time, more proof of her affection. Even sex became a given. While Bill worked with him, Ron began to see just how much of a selfish bastard he had been to Hermione, how much he had denied her emotionally when engaging her physically.

Ron sighed again. Even their relationship had been predicable, as well as the future he had planned for them. A carbon copy of his own parents' lives together.

How had he ever thought she'd be satisfied by that?

The truth was he didn't even give it any consideration because HE would have been satisfied by that.

Now he knew why Hermione ran from him the night he proposed. It was more than cold feet. She ran for her life—like a gazelle being pursued by a lion that was going to swallow her down. She balked because if she accepted, then his dream would become a living nightmare for her.

Ron rubbed his eyes and sat there, miserable. Miserable because he knew for certain Hermione was beyond him, and in a sense had always been. Maybe George was right. Maybe she had stayed with him as long as she did because she was more friend than lover, and was just being loyal and supportive when he wasn't. She was trying to make him happy at the price of her own happiness.

She might have just gone along with it all and settled if Snape hadn't made her that offer to search out potions. She might have given up on everything she was and hoped to be if that opportunity had never come along. And Ron would have been happy with that, with having tied down one of the wizarding world's brightest stars, hiding her light under a bushel of redheaded offspring in a house a stone's throw from his parent's home. It would have been quite a coup to be the husband of Hermione Granger.

It would have also been her downfall.

As Ron sat there, understanding finally dawned on him. It was as if a long, dark night lifted from the landscape of his mind and he could see every mountain and valley in startling clarity.

He might not want Hermione to go, but she had to go.

And he had no right to try and stop her. She wasn't his possession or a trophy. She was a person, a witch and someone who had been his friend long before she became his lover. To be honest, he showed her more respect and appreciation as a friend.

Ron took a large stride toward maturity and manhood in that moment of clarity. He still had a long way to go, but at least, this was a start for the wizard.

He lay back in the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. There was no way to make this up to Hermione, but—he could try and hope she'd forgive him. It was one thing hearing the truth from Snape, who had his own designs on Hermione, but it was another thing entirely to hear it from Harry, who loved them both. He wouldn't have said what he did if he didn't believe it. Ron had always been rather slow to see the whole of a situation, but once he did, it stuck with him like never-releasing glue. Harry's insight had reached him, because it came from the heart.

And it's the heart that really matters in the end.

* * *

A/N: I couldn't let Ron go down like that. He wasn't purposely being a git, he was just—being one. With age and experience comes wisdom and first loves are generally painful awakenings and starting points. He's not unredeemable. He only needed to be honest with himself. Thanks for reading.


	35. Departure

**Chapter 35 ~ Departure**

Snape let his morning class out a bit early, billowing up the marble stairs to catch Hermione before she left for lunch. He had something interesting to tell her about her former beau, Ronald Weasley. It wouldn't hurt to put a little more emotional distance between them. The students flowed around him like water as he walked down the first floor corridor and stopped in front of her office, looking in since the door was opened.

Hermione was in there, arranging a dozen yellow roses in a vase. Snape's nose wrinkled for two reasons. First, the flowers were roses, which he had no appreciation for, and second, they could only be from one source.

He walked into the office, watching Hermione. She was smiling broadly.

He scowled. Well, whatever 'good' feelings Ron had managed to pull out of the witch were about to be cut into ribbons.

"More roses from Mr. Weasley, I see. He's not giving up," Snape said rather coldly.

Hermione's head swiveled and she smiled at the wizard.

"Hello, Severus. Actually, he has given up, in a way. He sent me a note with these roses—"

Hermione picked up a small piece of parchment and read the following words to the Potions master.

_Hermione, I understand. Good Luck with your New Life_

She stared at the parchment, and wiped at a glistening eye with one finger, before putting it down and staring at the roses.

"Yellow roses stand for friendship," she said softly. "This is Ron's way of saying he accepts me leaving and he still wants to be friends. I never thought he'd see the way of it, but he has, Severus. He really has."

Snape stood there silently, eyeing the roses for a moment, then studying Hermione's face. She looked, well—happy and relieved. Breaking up with Ron hadn't been easy for her, and even though she had been furious, the knowledge that she had hurt him still took its toll on her. Gryffindors were natural-born martyrs and used to sacrificing themselves on the altar of "Someone Else's Need" It had to be difficult for Hermione to put her own needs first. Ron's acceptance made everything a lot easier for her.

Hermione looked at Snape.

"Was there something you wanted, Severus?" she asked him.

Snape looked at the roses again.

"Yes, I wanted to—" he began, his eyes resting on the witch once more and taking her in.

Oh, what the hell. It wouldn't be the first time he omitted the truth.

"I wanted to escort you to lunch," he finished.

"Oh, isn't that nice?" Hermione said, surprised. "Just let me put away these parchments and I'll be ready—"

Snape watched as Hermione put away her last class' paperwork, wondering if he was starting to go soft because of his new association with the witch. Was kindness contagious? And if so, to what degree?

As Hermione walked toward him, pleased and smiling, Snape decided even if it were contagious, he wouldn't die from it.

* * *

Ron strictly forbade anyone from harassing Hermione or trying to make her change her mind or take him back.

"She has to be focused," he told his mum, dad and George. "Some of these missions are going to be dangerous and I don't want her forgetting anything during her first run because she's being aggravated."

Molly couldn't believe Ron was going down without a fight. He'd never find anyone as brilliant and well-respected as Hermione. She would have been a wonderful addition to the Weasley clan. Besides, Molly loved Hermione. It felt as if she were losing a child.

Arthur, on the other hand, was very proud of his son. Ron had learned something very important about being in a relationship, and that was to look to see if it were a match or not. He was sure that Ron's next girlfriend would be someone with dreams and goals more in line with his own wishes. Arthur loved Hermione too, but he always knew that she was settling. She was too brilliant for ordinary domestic life. She would have never been happy.  
That may have taken care of the Weasleys, but Hermione still had to sit through a heart-to-heart with Minerva, who, once she found out about Snape, was determined to make her see reason.

"Hermione, I haven't yet finalized your resignation. I truly wish you would reconsider your decision to leave us and listen to someone wiser and more experienced than yourself. Traveling the world in such of rare potions might sound exciting, but there's a great amount of danger involved in it. Severus is used to danger, probably even requires it in some strange, twisted manner, like a drug. But you, my dear, have always been a logical young woman—"

Hermione pounced.

"Headmistress, in case you forgot, I became very used to danger at a very early age. I wasn't a spy, but I got my share of excitement and came close to death many, many times. I'm not afraid of danger. I'm afraid of never doing anything exemplary with my life. If we discover only one or two of the many elixirs Professor Snape will be searching for, it will still be a fantastic contribution to the field of Potions and I'll be part of it. Don't you see, for me this is a logical decision? A much better one than living a boring, predictable life as a teacher and wife. Not that there's anything wrong with being a teacher, but you have to have the proper love of teaching for it to be meaningful. I enjoy teaching, but I don't love it the way you and the other staff members do. Traveling the world is much more my forte. And I'm not going to pass on the opportunity, so please, finalize the resignation, Headmistress. I'm not going to change my mind."

Of course, nothing at all was said to Snape about his decision. Everyone knew it was time for him to go, and he wouldn't be missed to be honest. He was so unpleasant. Still, that fact didn't stop Minerva from having a "Happy Journeys" party for both he and Hermione, much to Snape's consternation.

The day after graduation, when all of the students had cleared out, Minerva held the party in the staff room, complete with music, food, libations and dancing. It started at four in the evening and lasted until past ten.

Snape was his usual cantankerous self, sitting in various folding chairs with his arms folded, being sarcastic and rather nasty to his well-wishers, frankly telling them that he knew they'd all be glad to see him go and to stop sucking up. Once again he threatened to hex Sybill when she got a bit too inebriated and amorous towards him. Why she thought he'd even be attracted to her was beyond him. He soon found out why she did, however, after a few Firewhiskeys loosened her tongue. He was going to be leaving soon, so Sybill decided to lay it all on the line.

"Severus, you should be glad I pay you any attention at all. You're such an ugly blighter," she said to him. "That any witch would be willing to give you a tumble is a miracle. You should be grateful, you git."

"I might be ugly, Sybill, but I'm not that desperate as to be willing to take whatever is offered," he told her firmly. "I'm still selective, and the only tumble you'd get out of me would be from my wand-tip when I blast you for annoying me. Now get away, you distasteful, drunken cow."

Sybill slurred something nasty at him and walked away

Hermione, one the other hand enjoyed herself immensely, the only glitch being when a crying, broken and rather drunken Sybill cried on her shoulder that she was the one who should be going with Snape and not Hermione.

Hermione couldn't help thinking Severus would most likely throw Sybill from the plane once it got high enough.

Snape managed to slink away before the "party" was over. No one even noticed he was gone except Hermione. It was a wonder he stayed as long as he did.

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of the week with her parents, who understood perfectly why she wanted to go abroad. They also liked to travel and did so frequently after Hermione began attending Hogwarts. They even took an unexpected trip to Australia, but oddly, they didn't remember much about that one.

It took an hour and twenty-five minutes for her dad to drive her to Heathrow airport. She was to meet Snape at Terminal four. He let her out in front of the terminal, took out her bags and kissed her on the forehead.

"Have fun, princess, and remember not to drink anything but bottled water. Check the seal too. Sometimes they put tap water in there and you bloody don't want to drink that!" he told her.

Hermione didn't divulge the potentially dangerous nature of her trip to Egypt to her parents. They thought she was traveling as Snape's personal secretary.

Snape met her inside the terminal, avoiding meeting her father. He silently handed her a ticket, then they went through the process of getting into the terminal. Snape wore his robes and Hermione was dressed in comfortable Muggle clothing. Some people kept addressing him as "Father" which Hermione found hilarious.

Snape didn't tell them otherwise, although he was more likely to curse than to bless.

Finally, they boarded the plane, Snape leading them through the cramped aisle of coach and entering first class. Hermione was very surprised.

"First class?" she said in surprise as Snape put his carry-all in the spacious overhead bin.

"Don't get used to it. This will be the only time we fly this way. I just wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable on your first long flight. You're paying for it anyway," he said quietly, taking the window seat. Even though the aisle was wider in first class, Snape hated anyone to brush against him in passing. Hermione settled in next to him.

She was excited, but a little sad. The last few months had been very solitary for her. Of course she stayed away from the Burrow, and she just didn't have it in her to see Harry. Most of the time she was planning for the trip. She and Severus didn't interact that much now that everything was settled. He did come around now and again to discuss a change in plans or let her know what the latest developments were, but it was strictly business.

It wasn't that Snape wasn't still attracted to Hermione, but now that he knew he had her, he could focus on the thousands of little details necessary for success. He did give Hermione copies of the texts he had concerning the Elixir of Immortality's creation and location, and she read them like romance novels, sighing over the compelling history and rereading the best parts. She discovered some aspects that he hadn't, and once again Snape was glad he'd convinced the witch to come with him. She'd be helpful on a number of levels.

Hermione sat there quietly as the attendant showed them all the scary little maneuvers to take in case the plane went down. Of course, she and Snape could Disapparate and save themselves if that happened, but she paid attention anyway.

Hermione couldn't help thinking about Harry and Ron. She was leaving and hadn't said good-bye to either of them. Ron hadn't come around at all after sending the roses, and she understood that. Harry hadn't come around either and that had been a little painful, but he could have been mad about the breakup. Harry seemed to favor Ron a little more than her, probably because they were both wizards. Hermione felt that way, but it wasn't true at all. He had just listened to Ron's wishes, and he knew he couldn't be in Hermione's presence without the situation coming up, so he stayed away.

She let out a sigh, and Snape studied her profile. He could sense what was wrong but said nothing. There was nothing he could say to make it any easier for her. They put on their belts as the plane slowly pulled away from the terminal. Snape idly looked out the window, then stiffened for a moment, before a slow smirk formed on his face.

"Hermione, look out of the window," he said to the witch.

Hermione leaned as far as she could and looked out. A happy smile appeared on her face.

There, standing where they really shouldn't be, were Ron, Harry and Ginny, jumping up and down and waving, Ron holding up a banner that read:

"HAPPY JOURNEYS, HERMIONE!"

"Oh—" she said, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

They still cared and came to see her off. Ron wore a big smile and waved the banner back and forth.

Hermione looked at them until the plane turned and they were no longer visible. Some employees were heading toward them, gesticulating. She imagined they all Disapparated before they reached them.

She sat back in the seat and wiped her eyes as the plane taxied down the runway, gaining speed. Suddenly, a white handkerchief appeared before her, held by a pale hand.

She took it from the Potions master and dabbed at her eyes with it. She handed it back to him, and he caressed the wet spots with his fingertips before folding it up and putting it back in his inside robes pocket.

"I suppose that was one of those "heart-wrenching" moments I've heard about. Your estranged friends coming to see you off after months of non-contact," the dark wizard said softly.

Hermione only nodded. If she spoke she'd probably sob.

"I believe you're rubbing off on me, Hermione. I watched that spectacle and didn't find it the slightest bit nauseating. I don't know if that's good—or bad."

Hermione gave him a small smile.

"It's good, believe me," she told him, feeling happier because the wizard didn't down her friends.

"We'll see," the wizard replied, looking out of the window as the plane took to the air.

* * *

From the terminal, Ron, Harry and Ginny watched as Hermione's plane soared away. It was a sobering moment for Harry and Ron. The trio was down to two, but Hermione was going to find her own way now and that was something to celebrate.

Through the glass, Ron's reflection was superimposed over the departing plane. He looked at it, then cocked his head, making a face at the suggested symbolism of his fading, transparent image and the departing plane.

"Blimey, that's too bloody dramatic even for me," he said, blowing off what could have been a perfectly good bittersweet ending to his relationship with Hermione. But he knew they would always be friends, and now, that was enough for him. "Come on, Harry, Ginny. Let's go to the food court. I'm bloody starving."

With Ron leading the way, he, Harry and Ginny headed toward the food court and the rest of their lives. They didn't need perilous adventures and dangerous challenges, no, not these three.

The ordinary adventures and challenges of living day to day ones would do just fine.

Hopefully, Hermione would find everything she was looking for and more.

* * *

A/N: And we're winding this one up. Next the epilogue.


	36. Discovery

**Chapter 36 ~ Discovery**

Three people moved through the cramped main road of the hot, dusty little Egyptian village. One was a short, dark-haired, very tanned young woman in robes, apparently studying a map. The next was a man wrapped completely in robes like a Bedouin, only his dark, narrowed eyes and pale skin visible from within the folds of the heavy cowl he wore against the heat. They were followed by a young Egyptian boy, also in robes, who held the reins of a very slow-walking camel carrying supplies. He yanked it in irritation.

"Come along you stupid beast! Keep up!" he hissed at the creature, who grunted, then spit at him. He missed.

"We can eat camel," Haruun warned him, barely missed by the camel lugey. "It has been done before."

The camel made another unworried grunt, and seemed to walk even slower.

"We're definitely being followed again, Severus," Hermione said to her silent companion. She held up the map so he could see it. A set of footprints surrounded by a red circle showed the location of the spy. "Only one this time."

They came to one of the many intersecting alleys that opened on the main street. It was rather narrow but would come out on an adjoining street.

"Turn down here," Snape said, his dark eyes glittering as he took the map from Hermione.

The map was Hermione's creation, based on the Marauder's Map, except that it showed anyone following within one hundred yards. It took a little while to identify individuals actually following them, because people often walked in the same direction. Before leaving any village, the adventurers would take a convoluted walk through it, turning here and there. The map would pick up anyone following their exact path. Then, Snape would pick them off, either magically or physically, depending on his mood.

Snape and Hermione turned into the alley. Haruun stopped before it, and groaned at the narrowness.

"Not another alley," he complained, then looked back at the camel.

"Come along, Haruun," Snape hissed back at him.

"Come on, camel," the boy said to the beast, tugging on the rope until the beast trotted forward quickly, making him fall then nearly stepping on him with its huge, soft feet.

"You did that on purpose!" Haruun exclaimed, getting up and dusting himself off as the camel just looked at him with its big, wet eyes. One might think it was an intelligent camel, but it was the standard variety. Ornery.

Haruun got him into the alley and followed Hermione and Snape. Suddenly, the wizard stepped into a small niche. Hermione and Haruun kept going. They'd meet him on the street in a few minutes.

Snape drew his wand and kept his dark eyes on the map, watching as the footsteps turned down the alley. Snape tucked the map into his pocket just as a dark man in a fez and loose-fitting clothes cautiously walked past him. The wizard stepped out of the niche.

"Excuse me," Snape purred.

The startled man spun and began babbling in Arabic as Snape fixed his wand on him.

"Stupefy!" Snape hissed, and the man fell like a stone. Snape looked behind him to make sure no one saw the stunning, then stuffed the unconscious man into the niche, placing a binding spell on him. It would dissipate after a while, but they would be long gone by then.

The wizard walked to the end of the alley and the road. Hermione, Haruun and the camel were waiting for him.

"You said I could get the next one," Haruun complained to Snape. "I need the practice."

They began walking again, Snape's eyes shifting to the pouting boy.

"Haruun, this is no time for 'practice.' We're too close and I don't have time to correct your mistakes," the wizard replied. "You'll have practice coming out of your ears when you attend Hogwarts. Now, stop whining."

Haruun's dark eyes swung to the back of Hermione's head.

"Hermione, can I have a pumpkin pastie?" he asked her.

Hermione looked back at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Haruun, but the cornucopia is packed away. I can't get it now," she said to him.

Haruun looked at the stack of bundles on the camel's back and sighed.

Hermione had purchased two magical cornucopias and six month's worth of food, enough to feed three people. They had been in Egypt for five months so far. Buying the cornucopias solved both the problem of eating the local food and of having a ready supply at their fingertips. Anytime they were hungry, they could extract food from the magical item. It didn't create food, just transferred from their stores in England. She'd learned from her mistake in the Forest of Dean so long ago. Any food or drink they wanted was supplied, the amount deducted from her account. She had also arranged an overdraft, in case they needed more food for a longer time. Snape would recoup only a third of that cost, since the food was shared between them and Haruun.

When Snape and Hermione arrived in Egypt, they were met by Mr. Answany. He was a brown-skinned, rotund and rather jovial looking man, who wore a fez, crisp white shirt, dark brown trousers, sandals and an ornately decorated brown vest over his fat belly. After introductions were made, he took them to his home and introduced them to Haruun.

The boy was rather small and skinny, his clothes dirty and torn. He was in dire need of a haircut. Hermione frowned slightly as she looked at his state. Mr. Answany couldn't have cleaned him up a little?

"He's bright, but you have to watch him. He steals, you know. Food most of the time," Anwar said, frowning at the boy. "It's a wonder he still has both his hands."

Haruun couldn't take his eyes off of Snape. He looked like the devil or at least an evil djinn. Snape didn't say anything at first as he looked at the boy, sizing him up. He had very intelligent eyes.

"Does he speak English?" the wizard asked.

"Too much," Anwar replied, turning toward Snape as Haruun scowled at him behind his back. His face straightened when the Egyptian looked back at him.

"Well, you won't have to steal food from us, Haruun. We have plenty and you can eat as much as you like," she told the boy, who gave her a bright smile.

"He'll eat only as much as he needs," Snape corrected. "Don't encourage gluttony. We're going to be dealing with enough sins as it is, Hermione."

Haruun's smile faded. Not only was the man ugly, he was cheap too. But the woman, she was nice. He was sure she would give him extra food when the ugly one wasn't looking.

"So, Mr. Snape. You've not told me exactly what your purpose in Egypt is, only that you were going on an expedition. May I ask what you are looking for?" Anwar said, his black eyes narrowing just a little.

"We're going to be studying hieroglyphics," Snape replied. "We will be writing a book about them, hopefully from a fresh perspective. We will be examining those of the lesser temples."

"I see," Anwar said, not believing Snape for a second. "You are welcome to stay in my home if you like."

"No, we've made other arrangements," the wizard replied. "And we must be going."

Anwar thought this rather rude of the wizard, to only pay him a cursory visit after all the arrangements he'd made for him. He was also suspicious.

"Where will you be staying?" Anwar inquired.

"In a hotel," Snape replied shortly. He didn't give the name.

"I—see," Anwar said tightly.

"Come along, Haruun. We have to buy you some clothes and get you cleaned up," Hermione said to the boy.

"You need clothes too," the boy said.

Anwar's face went black.

"He is too bold!" the wizard said.

"Why do you think we need clothes, Anwar?" Hermione asked him as Snape stood by silently. He preferred those who spoke up.

"To blend in," he said, then looked at Snape, "and to hide his face and keep him from frying under the desert sun like a fish out of the Nile."

Anwar raised his hand as if to strike the boy when Snape said coldly, "Leave him be."

He looked back at Haruun.

"Why should I hide my face?"

"You are evil-looking with very white skin. More than anyone else—you will draw attention. People will watch you and be frightened of you in the smaller villages. They will not be helpful. It is better if you hide your face," Haruun said honestly.

White people were very common in Egypt and normally didn't draw that much notice from ordinary citizens, although they had to be careful because of the overall climate in the Middle East. But Snape's looks were extraordinary. He had to be the whitest man Haruun had ever seen. He also looked as if he were up to no good. He would definitely be watched either because of suspicion or fascination.

"I see," Snape said, his mouth quirking slightly. "Let us go."

As the trio headed for the door, Anwar took out his wand and subtly flicked it at Snape, casting a tracking spell on him. Then he put it away and trundled after them.

"Allow me to arrange transport at least," Anwar said.

"We'll manage," the dark wizard replied, turning at the door and shaking Anwar's hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Answany. Good day."

Aswar watched them walk away, the smile leaving his face immediately. He closed the door and walked back into the house. As he entered the living room, a door opened off of it and a man with a pock-marked face and bad teeth entered, looking at him with bleary black eyes.

"Follow them," Anwar said, "tell me where they are staying. I want to know what they are up to. Something tells me they are in search of something of great value. We must protect the relics of Egypt."

The man left and Anwar poured himself a drink.

"Protect the relics of Egypt and line our own pockets," he mused, taking a sip, then taking out his wand and flicking it in the air. A translucent map appeared floating in front of him. On the map were street names and Snape's footprints.

"I've got my eye on you, Mr. Snape," he breathed.

* * *

The moment they were out of sight of Anwar's home, Snape said, "Do a sweep for tracking spells."

Hermione pulled out her wand and waved it over herself and Haruun, then Snape, her eyes widening.

"There's one on you," she breathed, astonished.

"Remove it," he ordered and she did so.

"Whenever we leave any area, you are to check us for spells," he told her.

"I'm sure I can develop something that won't let tracking spells stick to us," she replied, looking thoughtful. "I'll just need a little time. But why would Mr. Answany place a tracking spell on you?"

"Because he knows I'm lying," Snape replied evenly.

Haruun walked beside them, fascinated at Hermione using magic, and surprised Mr. Answany could do it, too. They were magic, like he was. But he didn't have a stick to do magic with like they did. He wanted to know more, but held his tongue. He'd find out more later. For now, he'd just watch them.

What was Mr. Snape lying about? And why. Already this was exciting and nothing had really happened yet. Haruun had a feeling they were going to do very bad things.

He liked the idea of that. It would be fun to do bad things with people. He hoped they were good at it. He didn't want to lose any limbs.

* * *

Hermione and Snape did do some very bad things, such as break into museums and copy rare texts, but they didn't take him along. Most of the time Haruun was very bored as they talked and pored over maps and texts, often arguing. Mr. Snape had a very bad temper in private, and didn't speak often at all in public. Most of the inquiries made were made by Hermione. He would just stand there and listen.

They had to make inquiries to see documents, but were almost always turned down because the texts were rare and Snape hadn't bothered with getting the proper permissions from the government, thinking they would draw too much attention.

Hermione had recoiled with horror the first time Snape grabbed a museum caretaker and forced Veritaserum down his throat in order to find out the exact location of the documents they needed. He Obliviated him afterwards and such acts became rather commonplace after that. Sometimes he used Legilimency, but Veritaserum was much faster than shifting through the mind of someone held in place with the Petrificus Totalus spell. Then they would come back at night, locate what they needed and copy them.

There had been one very close call when they actually had to steal a "key" from a museum. It was made of bronze and diamond-shaped, protected by thick glass and a number of alarms. A silent alarm had been triggered and several guards ran in, guns drawn and shooting, winging Snape in the shoulder before they Disapparated away with their prize. Haruun had been fascinated by all the blood and how easily Hermione cleaned and healed the wound. Snape didn't cry out or anything. Haruun thought someone like him was probably used to pain.

* * *

This skulking about and information gathering went on for about two and a half months before Haruun's talents were actually utilized. He served as a guide, but also as a translator. He took care of the camels they rented as well. Now that they were actually going to sites, he was given his own wand by Snape. It was a school wand, not one attuned to the boy's magic, but it was conditioned enough by usage that he was able to do small spells with Hermione's instruction.

Snape preferred that he learn basic labor magic first. Digging, lifting, minimizing and spells of that nature. Hermione did teach him what the Potions master wanted, but she threw in a couple of defensive spells and some fun ones. Snape didn't say much about the defensive spells, but he saw no reason to teach him spells like Avis or the Tickling spell. It was a source of contention between witch and wizard.

"He needs to know more than drone spells," Hermione argued.

Haruun was working on Stunning now, which was why he was miffed with Snape. He had wanted hands on training. Snape told him to stick to stunning birds.

So far, Hermione hadn't had her night under the stars yet. Actually, they were so busy that it wasn't an issue between them. Snape wasn't a demonstrative man by a long shot, and they were here to work. Luckily, they both shared several traits, and the main one was being consumed by whatever project they were focused on. So great sex took a back seat on the broom for the time being. More than likely it would come with success.

"This is it," Snape said to Hermione and Haruun as they walked away from the small village. The sun was low in the sky. Both he and Hermione believed they had located the vault that held the Elixir of Immortality. They walked for about two miles until they were well out of sight of the village, then all linked arms, Haruun holding the camel's rope, and Disapparated.

They arrived on a featureless stretch of sand, and both Snape and Hermione set about casting the modified healer's spell on the ground as Haruun calmed and unloaded the stricken camel, who had never Disapparated before and tried to run away the moment his big feet hit solid sand, dragging Haruun several yards before the boy regained control of him.

Once the camel was unloaded, Haruun set up torches to see by, sticking them in the sand and igniting them with his wand. He loved using magic.

Suddenly, Snape stiffened as the white color of his wand tip turned a bright blue. He stared down at the sand silently. Hermione had her back to him, busily testing her section of the sands. Haruun stared at Snape's wand.

"The light is blue!" he exclaimed excitedly. He knew blue was good. They had been to more than thirty sites looking for that blue light. At last, here it was.

Hermione spun and ran over to Snape, nearly falling on her face in her haste as she stared down at the sand and the light.

"We've found it," she breathed. "It can only be that, can't it, Severus?"

The Potions master's heart was pounding in his chest as he stared down at the sand.

"Let's see," he said, ending the spell and casting another. Hermione joined him and the sand began to fly.

* * *

A/N: The epilogue died. Lol. Well, I have to write at least one adventure before it ends. Soooo, I started it.


	37. Entering the Chamber

**Chapter 37 ~ Entering the Chamber**

Haruun watched Hermione and Snape dig through the sand using their wands, Snape having released the lower part of his head wrapping so he could see without obstruction. It was slow going because the small grains had a tendency to want to roll back down. It was clear to see they were both excited and not thinking clearly. This was a rarity, but there it was. The boy went and retrieved two shovels from one of the bundles and set them down on the ground behind the pair. He pulled out his wand.

He had to think a moment. What was the magic word? Ah, yes.

"Cavo!" he said, swishing and flicking his wand at the shovels.

The shovels shuddered, then rose off the ground, floated around Hermione and Snape and started digging, lifting shovelfuls of sand and carrying them away a little distance and dumping them. Both Hermione and Snape stopped digging and turned to look at Haruun, who gave them a crooked smile and shrugged.

"You weren't thinking," the boy said.

Snape and Hermione looked at each other, and as if of one mind, quickly walked over to the bundles on the ground and took out several cups and plates, transfiguring them into shovels and setting them to work. They stood watching as they did the job for them.

Haruun rifled through the bundles until he found one of the cornucopias. He pulled out a pumpkin pastie. It was late to eat but he figured he deserved it. When Snape cut his eyes toward him and didn't say anything, Haruun was absolutely sure he deserved it. He sat down next to the camel, which was folded compactly on the ground, tied to one of the torches and chewing its cud, staring at the shovels dully.

Hermione held her wand on the sand expectantly, the blue light that signified life glowing brightly. It seemed the stories were true. Something was alive down there, something awful, guarding the prize.

After about three hours, there was a clunk. The shovels had dug a very wide hole about 25 feet in diameter and 10 feet deep. Snape, Haruun and Hermione shored up the walls with magic, so they wouldn't collapse and bury them, adding a slope so they could walk up and down rather than have to drop in and out. They removed the spells from the shovels, which dropped heavily to the ground. Haruun gathered them up and left them by the side of the hole, then squatted on his heels looking down at the pair from the edge. He wasn't there long.

"Haruun, bring the lanterns and a coil of rope," Snape ordered as Hermione used a breeze spell to carefully remove the rest of the sand, revealing an iron floor with hieroglyphs inscribed in the metal. There was a diamond-shaped hole. Haruun brought the lanterns and Snape and Hermione each took one, studying the symbols. Hermione read the main glyph out loud.

_"Cursed is he who defiles the house of Thoth. May he be set upon by the unfaithful and consumed by Aab-e-Hayaat - the Dancing Water."_

Hermione looked at Snape.

"That doesn't sound very inviting," she commented as the wizard produced the key that had almost cost him his life out of his pocket.

"What did you expect? A welcome mat from Thoth?" he sniped as he bent to set the key in place.

"Wait!" Hermione cried.

Snape straightened, looking irritated.

"I just want to check for magic. A lot of these curses are hot air, but occasionally—they work," she said, casting her wand about carefully over the iron plate and surrounding area. Snape's nostrils pulsated with impatience. They were so close now. After three minutes of careful casting at different magical levels, she detected nothing.

"Okay," she said to Snape, who looked almost beside himself with aggravation, "it's clean—so far. You can open it."

"Thank you," Snape said curtly, once again bending and placing the key into the opening.

At first nothing happened, then the whole plate shuddered.

"Up we go!" Snape hissed, grabbing a startled Hermione's wrist and racing with her back up the slope to the ground above. Good thing, too. A number of very sharp and nasty 5 foot metal spikes suddenly jutted up from the plate, accompanied by a sound very much like a multitude of swords being drawn from scabbards. If they had remained standing there, they would have been skewered.

"Apparently Thoth was into 'shish kabob' as well as immortal severed body parts," Snape said softly as the spikes slowly retracted. Hermione stared at the plate, horrified. She could have been killed. Severus had saved her life with his quick reaction.

They watched as the iron plate began to pulsate and glow, first graying, then turning a dull crimson, then a brighter red as if it were red hot. It continued to lighten, a glow rising from the hole as it turned a brilliant white, all three adventurers covering their eyes against the brilliance before a roaring sound filled the air and a pillar of swirling golden light shot straight up into the night sky, illuminating the surrounding as if it were brightest day.

The light was viewable, and Hermione swore she could see shapes in the whirling funnel. Shapes that looked like people with flowing tails rather than legs and holes for eyes and mouth. They looked like ghosts. Not real ghosts but the kind that are put up for decoration for Halloween. Yet, these were much more frightening as she got a glimpse of them before the pillar was sucked back down into the hole, everything going dark.

Snape cautiously looked over the edge. The lanterns were still down there and gave enough light to see a large rectangular opening that had been the size of the iron plating. There'd be no more spikes, he hoped.

"Haruun, bring me the canary," Snape said, still looking down into the hole and the yawning blackness of the chamber beneath.

Haruun hurriedly located the little covered cage that held a small, yellow canary. It chirped beneath the covering as the boy brought it to Snape, who cast a Bubblehead charm around himself. He looked at Hermione.

"You wait here," he said softly.

Hermione didn't say anything, but looked worried as Snape walked down the slope, picked up the coil of rope, strode to the edge of the opening and threw the rope into the air. It straightened and stiffened, one end of it in the sky, the other leading down into the darkness. Snape uncovered the birdcage, and carefully grasped part of his robe in one hand, then used that hand to grip the rope, using the fabric and his feet as a buffer as he slid down into the opening.

Silence followed.

"Severus?" Hermione called from the edge of the hole.

He didn't answer. She quickly started walking down the slope, her want drawn.

"Hermione! You should wait!" Haruun called after her worriedly from the safety of higher ground. He was very much into self-preservation, and cursed holes weren't on his to-do list.

Hermione walked to the edge of the opening and looked down into the darkness.

"Severus?" she called again. Suddenly, she screamed as something small, twittering and yellow flashed out of the hole. It was the canary. Suddenly, she could see Severus. He had lit torches that were ensconced in the walls and was standing in an empty stone chamber. He removed the Bubblehead spell. The air was safe, if a bit stale.

"I wanted to make sure there weren't any severed limbs waiting to grab me," he called up to her, then looked around the chamber. "Currently, I don't see anything alive down here. It's safe to come down."

"All right, just let me remove my robes. They'll get in the way," Hermione said, "I'll be right down."

She walked up the slope, not noticing Haruun was no longer crouching by the edge of it. She worked at pulling the heavy robes over her head as she walked, when suddenly she hit something big and hard.

She wrestled her robes off her head and screamed as she was grabbed, both arms pinned to her sides so she couldn't reach her wand. It was in the pocket of her robes anyway. Someone had her. Someone with very bad, hot breath.

"Let me go!" Hermione screamed before someone hit her with a Silencing spell.

"What?" Snape called up as he examined the room he was in. There was an opening that led down a corridor. When Hermione didn't answer, he figured she was talking to Haruun and continued looking about.

A few feet away, Haruun stood, also held by a large, smelly stranger.

Out of the night walked Anwar Answany, round and smiling in the flickering torchlight. Hermione yelled at him, but she couldn't be heard.

"Ah, Miss Granger. We meet again," the Egyptian wizard purred. "I was quite disappointed that you developed a way to repel my tracking spells—"

"You get away from her, you son of a goat!" Haruun cried, struggling.

The man holding him cuffed him hard in the side of the head.

"Watch your mouth, street rat," he growled.

Anwar looked at Haruun with a crooked smile, then walked over to the camel, who was completely disinterested in anything the humans were doing. Anwar picked up the cornucopia.

"Unfortunately, you didn't cast the spell on your things," he continued. "Your little guide was always accessing the cornucopia, and it was the one item I could be sure would accompany you throughout your travels."

Hermione stared at him, cursing herself for not thinking to apply the spell to everything.

"It was a simple matter to use it to follow your and Mr. Snape's progress."

"Hermione! Come along!" Snape called up from the hole.

"Blasted women. Why do they always take so long?" he grumbled to himself. He wasn't about to climb back up there.

"Of course, I sent a few spies to keep you occupied, but I knew the basic location of where you were every day. You've both been quite busy. It was when the key of Thoth was stolen that I figured out you were looking for the tomb, and the Elixir of Immortality. Very good work, and I thank you for it."

Hermione glared at him. If looks could kill, Anwar would be buried by now. The bastard. He was planning on stealing their discovery.

"Now, if you will excuse me," he said to the witch, then to his accomplices, "hold them. Do not let them go. Be prepared to kill them on my word. If their companion returns without me, kill them immediately."

Both men nodded grimly.

Anwar walked down the slope to the edge of the opening and looked down at Snape, who was examining some hieroglyphs on the wall, before he called up, "For gods' sakes, Hermione. Get down here now, witch!"

"Mr. Snape. I must insist you allow me to Accio your wand," Anwar called down. "I have both Miss Granger and Haruun in a very compromising position, a position that will result in their immediate demise if you do not cooperate."

Snape looked upward and could see Anwar's face peering down at him. He had Hermione and Haruun? Damn it.

"What do you want, Mr. Answany?" the Potions master hissed.

"Only to protect the relics of Egypt," he replied.

"No. If that were the case, you would be here with government officials, not threatening my companions with death," Snape replied.

Anwar smiled.

"Perhaps there is more than a little personal interest involved, Mr. Snape, but I am an Egyptian and whatever is down there is more mine than yours. It is part of my heritage you are attempting to steal."

"You care nothing for heritage!" Snape snarled furiously.

"I am not about to debate you, Mr. Snape. Allow me to Accio your wand, now."

Snape stood there, unmoving.

Anwar tsked.

"So stubborn. Abu, show Mr. Snape we mean business," he called up. Suddenly there was a tortured scream from Haruun.

"All right!" Snape hissed, holding his wand out loosely in his hand.

Anwar flicked his wand at it.

"Accio wand!" he said, and Snape's wand flew upward into his outstretched hand. Anwar pocketed it, covering the extended tip with his vest.

"Now, I am coming down, Mr. Snape. If you don't want anything to happen to your companions, I suggest you be cooperative as we take the last leg of your journey together. Back away from the rope."

Snape backed away, but the look in his eyes was murderous. He wouldn't need a wand to kill this thieving bastard. His bare hands would do. Anwar descended the rope quickly, quite agile for a large man. His feet touched ground and he smiled at the scowling Snape. He was terrible to behold, his anger making his features even more frightening.

"You do look like the devil, but that is not a problem for me. I would brave hell itself for Thoth's treasures. No one has been able to locate this chamber, and many have tried. I will be a wealthier man, thanks to you, Mr. Snape."

"And what do you intend to do to us, Mr. Answany, once you've stolen our discovery?" Snape asked him, knowing the answer.

But it was the wrong answer.

"Nothing, Mr. Snape. You are new to the business of discovery, so don't know the rules. Killing talented explorers is not par for the course. You let them live, so they can find other discoveries, Mr. Snape. Murder is only used to make them more amicable to handing over their finds. Both Miss Granger and the street rat are expendable as far as I am concerned. You, on the other hand are someone I'd like to see continue in the field. No doubt next time you'll be better prepared for the possibility of theft. And I enjoy a challenge. Now, enough talk. Let's see what this chamber holds. After you, Mr. Snape."

His wand drawn, Anwar gestured with it toward the open door. Snape approached it, and a torch ignited itself inside the corridor, the walls covered with hieroglyphs. He turned back to Anwar.

"I need my wand to detect magic," he stated flatly.

"I am willing to check for you, Mr. Snape. I am here to serve," Anwar purred walking up to the opening, unconcerned that Snape might attack him.

"You're here to steal," Snape spat back at him impotently.

"That too," Anwar said as he peered into the corridor. "Just so you know, Mr. Snape, my men have orders to kill your companions should you return without me. So let's keep this civil."

Snape glared at Anwar's back as he checked the lit corridor for magic. He had to do something, but what?

For now, he'd just have to cooperate.

* * *

Abu and his companion Abdul stood holding their captives for a while. Then Abu said, "Let's seat them by the camel and stand guard over them."

Abdul grunted and dragged Hermione over to the camel and the torch and flung her down into the sand roughly. Her robes and concealed wand were left where she dropped them. The Silencing spell had worn off and she could speak again.

"I need my robes," she said to Abdul, who snarled down at her.

"And the wand inside it? No tricks, you abomination. I know what a wand is and what a witch is. You'll stay put," he growled at her.

Abu slung Haruun down next to her. He was still bent in pain from when the man grabbed his goods and squeezed them hard. That was how he had made the boy scream. Hermione protectively wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling Haruun against her.

"It'll be all right, Haruun," she said to him softly as the boy glared at both men staring down at them.

"No talking," Abdul said, kicking a bit of sand at Hermione.

The two men sat down across from them, silently, their eyes flicking over Hermione in a way she didn't like.

Gods, how were they going to get out of this?

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	38. The AabeHayaat

**Chapter 38~ The Aab-e-Hayaat**

"There is something alive in this chamber, Mr. Answany," Snape said as they walked through the small corridor toward another dark doorway.

"Ah, yes, the severed limbs of those who displeased Thoth. I know the legend, Mr. Snape, but I doubt the truth of it. While the Elixir might extend the life of a living user, I highly doubt it would sustain the severed limbs of one. There are no bodily functions, no blood, no sustenance—" Anwar replied, shaking his head ruefully.

Snape didn't say anything more. Anwar was a fool. This was magic they were dealing with, not biology. They entered another small chamber, perhaps ten feet by fifteen with a low, seamless ceiling. There were no hieroglyphs here. Only a small boulder with a warning written the face—and a very small bottle made of molten glass rested on top of it with a jeweled stopper shaped like the head of an Ibis. Inside the bottle was sparkling blue water. But the sparkling extended beyond the bottle, bright twinkles swirling around it.

"Ah! The Aab-e-Hayaat! It is here! Get it!" Anwar urged, staring at the bottle with hunger.

Snape's black eyes shifted around the chamber, looking at the bare walls.

"Don't you find it strange, Mr. Answany, that there are no protections here? No holes for spears or spikes, no grooves for sliding walls? I wouldn't advise removing that bottle without further exploration. Something—quite nasty may occur."

Anwar stared at the bottle, his eyes full of greed.

"You are too superstitious, Mr. Snape. One might accuse you of being one of our gullible natives if not for your appearance," Anwar replied.

"You have to have seen the pillar of fire," Snape said to the wizard.

"Pah. The ancients knew much about metallurgy and mixing chemicals. They could have used some concoction of ingredients to create that display. Magnesium flares brightly—"

"That was not magnesium," Snape said in a low voice as Anwar took another step toward the hypnotic bottle. The water within seemed to have its own tide, rising and crashing against the glass like an enclosed ocean. Blue, so very blue and beautiful.

"Be silent, Snape! That display was designed to dazzle men who could be dazzled by bright lights in such a way, not modern men such as you and I. Or, at least I. There is no magic here, only this—the prize. My prize."

Snape watched as Anwar closed the distance between himself and the boulder. Snape read the inscription written on it. It was the same inscription Hermione had read on the iron plate.

Not good. Nothing was ever this simple. He was going to die down here. As Anwar reached for the bottle, Snape grabbed his wrist.

"Don't do it," he hissed as Anwar pointed his wand at him and snatched his hand away. Snape stood there, unmoving, the tip of Anwar's wand pressing into his chest.

"I never took you for a coward, Snape," he snarled at the wizard.

"Discretion is the better part of valor," Snape snarled back at him venomously. He hated being called a coward.

"I do this at my discretion," Anwar said, picking up the bottle with his other hand.

Snape waited for all hell to break loose, but there was no ominous rumbling or grating noises. No doors opened up. Anwar beamed at him, lowering his wand.

"See? I told you there was nothing to fear-- blech!"

A thick layer of sand fell on top of them, some getting in Anwar's mouth. Snape looked up, his black eyes widening in horror as he saw a pale squirming mass of limbs, torsos and decapitated heads, obviously held in place by the sheer amount of them. They wriggled and bulged downward toward them, some starting to work loose.

Snape tried to sprint by Anwar, but the wizard clutched him in terror as the squirming limbs tumbled down on top of both of them, writhing, grasping and pulling at them with great strength.

Snape wrested free of Anwar, but was covered in clutching hands, legs kicking at his feet and shins. He fought desperately and saw his wand sticking out of Anwar's pocket, his vest torn away. He had to get it!

The hands already had the Egyptian's wand and it was snapped in half as he screamed and gurgled, two sets of hands wrapped around his throat trying to throttle him. On the floor lay severed heads, unable to actively move, the eyes wide and blinking, the mouths moving horribly, unable to make anything other than mucousy, clicking sounds as their black tongues worked ineffectively. It was the most horrible sight Snape had ever seen as he fought to get to Anwar and his wand.

The mass of limbs spilled out through the corridor and the outer chamber. Apparently, the Unfaithful had been sealed in the ceiling, which was compacted sand. When the bottle was removed from the boulder, the sand was agitated and released. The rest was pure horror. A few flailing fingers caught hold of the rope and began to inch upward.

Snape tore a clutching hand from his face, deep scratches running from the corner of his eye and down his cheek, but it was Anwar who had the worst of it. It seemed they were attracted to him because he had the bottle. Snape managed to pull his wand out of Anwar's pocket from the midst of the squirming melee, then kicked and fought his way to the far wall. Yes, all the limbs were converging on Anwar. Snape currently had a clear space. He stared with fascination at the scene before him, Anwar pulled into the mass of writhing limbs and covered for a moment.

Snape thought that might be the end of him, but it wasn't. Suddenly, the limbs parted, showing a screaming Anwar spread out on the floor, held down by numerous, clutching hands, next to a head facing his way. The eyes of it were narrowed.

"Help me, Mr. Snape!" the terrified wizard cried.

"I can't do that, Mr. Answany. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your heritage," Snape called back.

Snape saw the sparkling bottle clutched in the hand of a limb that was being transported by the others and watched in fascination horror as another arm inched over to Anwar, the fingers feeling his face and tapping on his lips. The horrible head next to him slowly smiled and the hand slid down and clutched Anwar's throat, choking him so his mouth flew open.

It was then Snape realized that the limbs carrying the bottle and choking Anwar were right and left. More than likely they belonged to the maniacally grinning head looking toward the wizard. Another hand assisted by pulling out the Ibis-head stopper, and the Aab-e-Hayaat was poured down Anwar's throat, then a gray hand clapped over his mouth to keep him from expelling the liquid.

It was gone.

Snape watched as the limbs closed back over Anwar again with grim purpose, and the renewed, agonizing screams rang out so loud they carried to the men and their prisoners above. Anwar was being physically torn apart by the limbs. He was to join them in their eternal torment.

"In Allah's blessed name, what is that?" Abu said, standing up and looking toward the chamber, taking his eyes off of Hermione and Haruun. Abu looked as well. That was all Haruun was waiting for. He whipped out his wand. The two men didn't know he was a wizard or that he had a wand.

"Stupefy!" Haruun snarled, hitting the seated Abu first, rendering him unconscious.

But Abdul had fast reflexes. He pulled out his knife and dove toward Hermione blade first.

Hermione screamed, and aided by adrenaline, rolled out of the way, Abdul driving the blade hilt deep into the camel's flank. The camel let out a scream, stumbling to its feet and pulling out the torch, which swung and hit Abdul, knocking him aside before the camel ran away into the night, screaming in fear and pain. Hermione bolted for her fallen robes but Haruun hit Abdul with a stunner and knocked him unconscious as well. Then he stalked over to Abu, rolled him over, and stomped on his nuts as hard as he could.

"Take that, desert dog!" Haruun hissed as Hermione ran back over and cast good strong binding spells on both of them. She then ran to the chamber, half sliding down the slope.

"Severus! Severus, are you all right?" she screamed before looking down into the chamber and recoiling in horror as she saw all the writhing limbs and other body parts. Two dismembered arms were climbing up the rope inch by inch, using their fingers for leverage.

"Oh my gods, Severus—" she breathed.

She didn't want to cut the rope in case the wizard was trying to get out. But there were hundreds of grasping, writhing arms and legs. She was sure Mr. Answany had taken his wand. He would have had to. She stared down into the chamber, biting her lip, unsure of what to do. Going down there didn't seem to be a good idea. She cast the Killing curse on one of the ascending arms to see if she could kill it. Nothing happened as it kept inching upward.

"Oh damn," she breathed. Suddenly Haruun appeared beside her with a shovel.

"I'll get it," he hissed, hefting the shovel over his shoulder and waiting for the limb to climb high enough to be knocked back down.

* * *

Snape winced as blood flowed over the limbs, turning them red as Anwar's screams suddenly stopped short. A torn leg joint wrapped in a bloody brown trouser leg was tossed out of the heaving mound, falling aside and flexing as blood trickled out the ragged end, the bone showing, torn tendons and muscle exposed. Then Anwar's head was tossed out, landing in front of Snape, the eyes turned on him and the mouth working as it lay in a pool of blood.

"A decapitated head can reason for about twenty seconds after being cleaved from the body, but in your case, Mr. Answany, I fear it will be much longer," he said coldly

Then he heard it. A rumble. He looked down at his feet and saw water trickling from under the wall. And the limbs were now inching toward him. Suddenly a stone wall fell, blocking off the exit. Snape looked at the boulder again, reading the inscription.

"— May he be set upon by the unfaithful and consumed by Aab-e-Hayaat - the Dancing Water."

Well, the unfaithful had certainly set upon the unfortunate Mr. Anwar Answany. This must be the 'dancing water" portion of the curse. Snape cast a Disillusionment and Silencing spell on himself and Disapparated just as the wall he was leaning against exploded, water roaring through and filling the chamber.

* * *

Severus had cast the spells with the intention of surprising Hermione's and Haruun's captors, but found them bound and unconscious on the ground.

"Severus! Severus!" Hermione's anguished voice carried over to him. He removed the spells then walked to the edge of the hole, looking down just as Haruun swung the shovel and knocked the first ascending arm off the rope.

Snape arched an eyebrow as Hermione kept circling the hole, clearly in a state.

"Severus!" she called again, her voice tormented as Haruun swung at the second arm. It fell but managed to grab the edge of the shovel. Haruun tried to shake it off, but it hung on tightly. Finally, the boy threw the whole shovel into the hole.

"I'm going down, Haruun! I have to see if I can help Severus," Hermione said. "Maybe I can clear a path through them—or maybe levitate them. Something. I can't just leave him down there. He needs me!"

Haruun looked doubtful, but didn't try to discourage her.

"I will come, too. I will beat them with the shovel," the boy said staunchly.

"Haruun, up to this point, I've always believed you Slytherin-bound," Snape said from the edge of the pit. Both Hermione and Haruun looked up in disbelief. "However, it seems close association with Hermione has rubbed some Gryffindor traits off on you, particularly their insane suicidal inclinations. It won't be necessary for either of you to descend to your deaths. As you can see, I am fine."

Both Haruun and Hermione ran up the slope and leaped on Snape, all of them falling into the sand as they held on to him.

"What—hey! Get off of me this instant!" Snape spluttered as they felt him all over, smiling and making sure he was in one piece. "I don't appreciate being bum-rushed and tackled after my ordeal!"

"Oh, you're injured," Hermione said, sitting up and brushing his lank hair away from his face and seeing the deep scratches starting from under his eye.

"I am much better off than Mr. Answany," Snape replied, trying to pry Haruun's skinny arms from around his waist as the boy clutched him.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked, getting up. Snape finally managed to get Haruun off of him. He stood up and brushed off his ripped robes.

"Let's just say he went to pieces," the wizard replied, letting Hermione take his hand and lead him over to one of the torches. She pulled out her wand and set about healing his wounds.

"What about the Elixir?" she asked. "Was it there? Did you get it?"

"It was there, but Mr. Answany got it first and then some. But I can attest that it does work. Mr. Answany is now among the immortals."

Hermione finished healing his wounds and looked up at his dour face as he looked down at her.

"So we failed," she said to him softly.

He shook his head.

"No, we didn't. We found the elixir. We just didn't manage to acquire it. I'm not sure we should have," Snape replied quietly. "It was something not meant for men, Hermione. Still, the expedition wasn't a total failure. We have honed our skills greatly and will be better prepared for the next mission—"

He studied her.

"—if there is to be a next mission for you, Hermione. Will there be?"

Haruun watched the couple, both of his eyebrows raised. Were they—was Hermione? Was Snape? By all the sands of Egypt—they loved each other!

Hermione must close her eyes when she kissed him.

"After all of this? The spies, the danger, the robberies, the slinking around?" she exclaimed. "Of course I'm going on the next mission. And the one after that and the one after that—but you have to swallow my costs since we didn't get anything and I'm not going to make any money off of this."

Snape frowned at her.

"Is that all you think about? Money?" he snapped bad-naturedly. He knew he had to take the loss, but she didn't have to bring it up.

Hermione's eyes darted to the stunned Haruun, then back to Snape a little naughtily.

"Well—it's not all I think about," she admitted.

One of Snape's eyebrows rose as he looked at the witch. There was a bit of unfinished business between them, something to do with the stars of Egypt.

"Indeed," he said shortly.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	39. What About Ron?

**Chapter 39 – What About Ron?**

Hermione had been gone four months before Ron really began to mingle again, his brothers and Harry making him go out to have a pint or two. Ron did so, but although plenty of witches were interested in him, he couldn't help but feel it wasn't really him, but his status as a hero that attracted them.

Ron wasn't like George. Yes, he had accepted the blowjob from Odessa, but that had been a one-time occurrence and under a bit of duress. He really didn't want to sleep around and was of the opinion that if a witch let him get under her robes in one night, a lot of other blokes were probably lifting the fabric too. George even tried to treat him to a night at the brothel, but Ron just wasn't interested.

Molly was worried and tried to get him to take more interest in getting a girlfriend.

"Ron, when you fall off the broom, you have to just hop right back on," she chided him.

"Mum, witches aren't brooms," he told her with a frown.

George, who was sitting at the table, smirked a little. They might as well be brooms as much as he rode them.

"It's not that easy. I was with Hermione a long time, and she was just like me and Harry, mum. Most of the witches out here want to be with me only because they see me as a hero. It's not me they want, but—but the status," Ron said. "I don't want that. I want a witch that just likes me. Period."

He left the kitchen. Molly sighed after him.

"He's not going to find another Hermione," she said softly.

"Ron wants a witch that's not just a girlfriend, mum, but a friend, too," George said, looking after his brother. "Hermione is a hero like he is, so they were on the same level that way. He's got a hard road ahead trying to find a witch that likes him for who he is and not for what he's done. Everyone knows what he's done for the wizarding world."

"My poor boy," Molly said, her eyes glistening.

* * *

Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, decided to try something a bit different for her Friday night crowd. Instead of them coming into the inn for free and ordering food, they would pay a cover charge at the door and have a buffet provided. They would still have to purchase alcoholic beverages but they could eat as much as they liked. Plus, it would have the added benefit of letting them get something on their stomachs while they drank. If food were readily available, they would eat more. At least, that was the theory.

Ron accompanied Ginny, Harry, Bill, Fleur and George to the inn that night to be supportive of Rosmerta's new setup. The price was four Galleons apiece, but the food was more than worth the price.

They got a table, and Ron headed directly for the buffet. A witch was serving all the patrons, looking a bit harried, but doing a good job of it. She wore a long braid down her back. Ron recognized her immediately. It was Susan Bones. They had gone to Hogwarts together, although she had been in Hufflepuff house. They had also both been members of Dumbledore's Army. She had been a rather quiet witch, but nice enough. She had also gone through her share of noterity when the Death Eaters that killed her uncle Edgar and his entire family escaped from Azkaban. She told Harry she finally understood how it was for him to be constantly asked about the people who killed his family. She went through the same thing and it was morbid and terrible.

"Oi, Susan," Ron said to her as he stood in line.

She looked up and gave him a quick smile before piling food on a pointing witch's plate.

"Hi Ron—oh, more chicken? Here you go, miss."

She handed a plate to the witch in front of her, then took Ron's plate and began to fill it as he pointed to what he wanted.

"You work here?" he asked Susan.

"Ah, no. I'm the caterer," she replied.

Ron's eyes widened as he looked at the spread.

"You made all of this?" he asked her.

She nodded.

"I love to cook," she said, putting some Shepherd's Pie on his plate. Ron experimentally tasted a bit of it with his fork. His eyes widened.

"Wow! This is great, Susan!"

She blushed.

"Thanks, Ron. Enjoy your meal and come back for seconds or even thirds. There's going to be plenty."

Ron went back to the table and ate every bit of Susan's cooking. It was really delicious.

"I can't believe she made all this. She's like another mum!" he exclaimed, digging in.

"You better not let mum hear you say that. She's the Cooking Queen," Ginny said to him.

"Well, Susan's a Princess then," Ron said around the biscuit dripping butter in his mouth.

Ron went back several times during the evening, Susan smiling at him each time she served him. He came back more than anyone else, and he sat down with her during the lulls. They talked and he found out Susan had started her business right out of Hogwarts, starting with standing on street corners and giving out free samples of her food along with a business card that told how to contact her. She was very enterprising.

They talked about other things, Ron being interrupted by witches several times during the conversations. They were trying to cut in. Susan wasn't ugly by any means, but she wasn't fixed up since she was working. She looked, well normal. She had brown hair, brown eyes and an easy laugh. She was a bit toward the plump side, but pleasingly plump. Still, next to the gussied up witches out for a night on the town, she looked rather plain. Add that she was wearing a white uniform splattered with food and an apron and they considered her a non-entity.

Ron blew them off and continued talking to Susan. He found out she had a real love for the Chudley Canons, his favorite Quidditch team. Hermione never really liked Quidditch, although Ron did his best to try and make her appreciate the game more by buying her books about it. Since she liked to read, he figured that was the best way to reach her. Unfortunately, although Hermione did like to read, she liked to read about subjects that interested her. Quidditch didn't, so the books did no good.

"Look at Ron," Ginny said, nudging Harry with her elbow. "He hasn't sat down and talked with a witch in ages."

Harry squinted at the buffet table. He was quite lit.

"Isn't that Susan Bones?" he asked Ginny.

"Yep. And it looks like they're having a nice conversation," she replied. "Maybe he'll ask her out."

"Hope so. He hasn't been laid in ages," Harry slurred.

Ginny scowled at him.

"This is about more than getting laid, Harry Potter!" she snapped at him. "Ron needs to really connect with someone on an emotional level!"

Harry shrugged.

"If you say so," he said, taking a sip from his pint.

Like most wizards, Harry's sensitivity became less as he drank more. Ginny just shook her head and continued to keep an eye on Ron. George was already gone, having picked up a willing witch and spiriting her back to his joke shop under the guise of "showing her about." He had a bed in the back room.

Bill and Fleur were chatting and enjoying each other's company, the witch flirting with him unmercifully. Well, they'd be leaving soon and he'd get her back for all the teasing once they got back to Shell Cottage.

At the end of the evening, Ron helped Susan pack up all her things. She gave him a huge plate of food to take home with him to snack on.

"I like a wizard with a good appetite," she told him as she handed him the plate.

"That's me, all right," Ron said with a smile, then he looked a little furtive. "Ah, Susan?"

She had just closed up the little magical refrigerator on wheels, and looked up at him.

Ron cleared his throat, and she smiled a little.

"You want to go out, don't you?" she asked him.

Ron blinked.

"Er—ah, yeah. I mean, if you have a boyfriend or something—" he said, reddening.

She laughed.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend, Ron. Most wizards can't take the competition," she said, shaking her head as she covered a pan of stuffed mushrooms.

"Competition?" Ron asked, frowning slightly.

"With the catering. I'm constantly cooking," she said.

"And that's a problem?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It can be," she said with a sigh. "And I'm always asking them to try new foods. One gained twenty pounds while we dated. He said I was turning him into a fatty and we broke up."

Ron blinked at her.

"He didn't have the Weasley metabolism. I can eat all day every day and not gain a pound," he informed her, putting a tray into another refrigerator for her.

"I wish I could say that," Susan replied with a sigh. "I'm not exactly slim. One of the pitfalls of being a caterer and having to taste my own food constantly."

Ron's mum was very plump and his dad didn't mind it at all. And Ron had inherited the same appreciation. He just didn't know it until now. As far as he could see, Susan was just very shapely. She had nice hips and breasts. Sure, she was bigger than a lot of witches, but she looked just fine.

"You're fine," he said shortly.

"Thanks," she said, blushing a little, then busily dusted off her hands.

"Well, I'm finished here," she said, hesitating as she looked up at Ron, who cleared his throat again.

"Ah, yeah. You know, the Canons are having a match next Saturday," he said.

"Yes, I know. I'm going," she said.

"By yourself?" Ron asked her.

She nodded.

"How about I go with you? It's more fun to watch the Canons with another fan," he said, thinking this was a lot easier than just asking her out to dinner or something stuffy like that. She was already going after all. It was a no-brainer.

Susan smiled.

"That sounds like fun, Ron. It's a date," she said.

Ron grinned down at her.

With Susan's cooking and love of the Chudley Canons, it seemed as if this could be the start of a beautiful friendship—

and maybe more.

* * *

A/N: Had to go back and take a short look at what Ron was up to. Thanks for reading.


	40. The Return to Civilization

**Chapter 40 ~ The Return to Civilization**

When Snape, Hermione and Haruun walked into the lavish lobby of Cairo's Four Seasons hotel at almost one in the morning, the night clerk looked up and scowled slightly at their dusty condition, then gawked at the pale severe wizard stalking up to the desk as if he meant to kill her. He looked like the devil.

"We would like a room," he said, in a silken voice that seemed completely unmatched to his hawkish, dour appearance. His hair looked as if it hadn't been washed in months and his robes were torn.

The clerk blinked at him as Hermione and Haruun exclaimed over the lavish setting, Haruun plucking a number of sweets on display in the lobby for guests off a three-tiered tray, then bouncing on one of the chairs in his dirty robes. Hermione made him get off of it.

"Certainly, but I need to see some identification, sir," the clerk said, her voice quavering a bit.

His face set, Snape handed over his pink driver's license (yes, he could drive) and his passport. The clerk examined them. He was from England. A Mr. Severus Tobias Snape. She pulled up a screen.

"What kind of room would you like, sir?" she asked him.

Snape thought about it. They had been roughing it for months. It was time to relax a bit.

"A three bedroom suite," he replied as the clerk's eyes widened slightly. Suites were pricey. She delicately picked up a pamphlet that had the rooms and current rates listed. She didn't want to imply he couldn't afford it.

Here is a description of the rooms available, sir. The kind of suite you'd like is called "The Nile" suite. You can see the amenities and rates here, sir," she said carefully.

Careful or not, Snape could tell the clerk though he was aiming too high. He read the room features:

**_Nile Suite_**

_Truly spacious and luxuriously appointed, the three-bedroom, three-bathroom Nile Suites offer spectacular views of Cairo from the Hotel's 12th and 14th floors._

_These suites feature an executive study, a dining area with pantry, a private bar, a 100-centimetre (40-inch) plasma screen television, a VCR, a DVD player and a sound system. They also include a desk, two-line telephones, a fax/modem line and high-speed Internet access. _

_The king-bedded master bedroom features a walk-in closet.  
Three full marble bathrooms include a deep soaking tub, separate glass-enclosed shower, large granite-topped vanity and a WC with a bidet and telephone in a separate room. There is a guest powder room conveniently located off the living area. _

_**Room Details**_

- Location 12th and 14th floors  
- View Cairo's unique surroundings  
- Décor Richly appointed, with soft gold, red and green tones throughout.  
- Beds Three king beds  
- Extra bed (by request) Three rollaway beds or cribs  
- Bathrooms Three full marble bathrooms; plus guest powder room  


Snape's nose wrinkled at the soft gold and red tones the suite was decorated in, but at least there was some green. He looked at the rates per night. It was expensive, but then again, they would only need it for two nights.

"I'll take it for two nights," he said, giving her his credit card and the necessary details. Hermione walked up and looked at the pamphlet. Her hair was a fright and she had a bit of dirt on her face. The clerk tried not to stare. Then Haruun walked up and rang the little bell on the counter several times. The clerk politely ignored him as the shrill ting rang through the lobby.

"Stop it!" Snape hissed at him.

Haruun pulled his hand away as if the bell had suddenly turned red-hot.

The clerk asked them if they had any luggage and was told no. Anything they needed they had miniaturized and left the rest, along with the two minions of Anwar in the desert. Both Haruun and Snape had been against Hermione leaving them two large flasks of water.

"Let their tongues swell up under the desert sun!" Haruun exclaimed as Hermione magically adjusted the Binding spell so it would release them at sunrise.

"I have to say I agree with Haruun, Hermione," Snape said, his eyes hard as he looked down at the two still unconscious men. Haruun had a lot of intent when he hit them with the Stupefy spell. Snape had no doubt the boy could have cast an effective Killing curse if he had known it. Lucky for Abu and Abdul that he didn't.

"No, I won't do it. We haven't killed anyone on this expedition and I want to leave Egypt with a clear conscience," the witch said, filling two flasks with water from her wand tip and placing them on the ground next to the men.

They had also found the camel, removed the knife from its flank and healed it. The camel spit on Hermione in gratitude, then padded off across the sands. Haruun started to go after it, but Snape said to let it go. It had been through enough. It would find its way back to its owner.

Hermione looked down at the pamphlet, her brown eyes widening as she read the rates.

"Severus, these rooms are so expensive," she breathed. "Which one did you get?"

"The Nile suite," he replied. "It has the facilities we need to unwind properly."

Hermione noticed it had three bedrooms.

"I see," she said a bit flatly. Severus frowned at her slightly.

"I thought you'd be pleased about my rare extravagance. After sleeping in camel stalls, strange homes and camping out on the desert sands scratching sand out of our crotches every morning, I thought you'd appreciate a bit of luxury, such as a bed, hot water and a tub for soaking—"

Hermione's eyes turned dreamy. It was the bedroom situation that she hadn't appreciated, but then again all of them were very tired. To be honest, in her current state sex didn't sound as good as—

"A bath," she sighed.

"Exactly," Snape snapped at her.

Haruun listened closely. He had just found out about how wonderful baths were when he joined Hermione and Snape. Before then, the closest he came to having a bath was dunking himself in the camel water trough to cool off. He was always chased when he did that, so he didn't do it often. But, he'd welcome a bath too. He liked how his skin felt afterwards. Like new.

Smitten by the idea of an honest-to-goodness bath after almost four months without one, Hermione didn't make another complaint as Snape handed her one of three sets of keys. He gave Haruun a set and kept the last for himself.

The clerk was looking at them curiously. She had heard their dialogue. If that's how they'd been living, sleeping in stalls and in the desert, no wonder they looked as they did. They must be archeologists.

Their suite was on the fourteenth floor, which was actually the thirteenth floor, but hotels didn't do "13" so the level was skipped.

"You two get settled in," Snape said to the pair. "I need to talk to the concierge. I will be up shortly."

The clerk heard him and immediately dialed the concierge, who was on call day or night, although usually he didn't get night calls, especially this late.

"Baruti, you are needed in the lobby immediately by a guest," she said into the receiver.

"At this time of night?" a tired voice said on the other end of the line.

"Yessss," the clerk hissed into the phone softly. "Right now!"

"Masha'Allah," Baruti breathed into the phone, then hung up and scooted out of the bed, wiping at his eyes. He stretched, then walked to the closet and took out his suit, then went into the bathroom to quickly pull himself together.

Snape watched Hermione and Haruun walk to the elevator. Haruun was wary getting into the little room. The hotel they stayed at in the beginning was all one level, so this was the first time he'd ridden in one. He followed Hermione in and stood in the center stiffly, his dark eyes on Snape as the door closed. Snape thought he heard a little yell as the elevator ascended quickly.

He turned back to the clerk.

"Baruti, our concierge should be here shortly, Mr. Snape. Would you like some coffee?" she asked him.

"It's almost two in the morning, Miss—"

Snape read her little name badge. Her name was Amala Bedwar.

"—Miss Bedwar. Why would I drink coffee at this time of night?" Snape asked her, his eyes narrowed.

Amala was brought up short. What a rude man. A simple "no" would have sufficed.

"I was just offering—" she said apologetically.

"Offering your guests something that will interfere with their sleep is not good customer service," the dark wizard said. "I suggest you bone up on your approach to proper hotel etiquette."

Snape was just a little miffed at the price he had to pay for the suite. True, he chose to pay it, but he was going to be looking for any little thing that was less than perfect to complain about. He might be able to get a discount before this was all over.

"Yes, sir. Baruti will be here shortly. You can take a seat—over there," she said a bit tightly.

Snape turned and billowed over to the comfortable chairs tastefully arranged in the lobby's center and sat down in one, eyeing the three tiered serving tray of sweets.

Amala gave a little snort when he departed, then set about printing out the details of Snape's transaction. What an unpleasant man.

Presently a brown-skinned man of about twenty-five dressed in a nice suit walked up to him. Baruti was a professional, and although Snape's looks startled him, he didn't react as he smiled and held out his hand.

"I am Baruti Massri, Concierge for the Four Seasons Hotel. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. –"

"Snape," Snape said shortly, not taking his hand.

Baruti didn't lose his smile, however. He just lowered his hand.

"Mr. Snape. How may I be of assistance tonight?" he asked him.

"I want to arrange a day-long outing to occupy the time of a young woman of twenty-five and a boy of ten. Nothing too strenuous, but enjoyable."

"May I sit down, sir?" Baruti inquired politely.

Snape nodded.

Baruti sat down in the chair across from him. He pulled out a little notepad and pen.

"Would you like the activities to be on-site or off-site, Mr. Snape?"

Snape considered.

"Both," he said.

Baruti wrote it down.

"I see. Do you think the young woman would enjoy a spa treatment? It is quite nice in the morning and makes one ready for the rest of the day. The boy might like it as well, although his treatment would be tailored according to what he wanted."

Snape considered. Hermione deserved something pleasant after all her hard work. Haruun would be willing to try anything once.

"That sounds fine. They are both going to need fresh clothing. We—lost our luggage," Snape lied. "One outfit apiece will do. They can stop at a clothing store during the day. I will also need a change of clothing. Something suitable for desert wear, in basic black. My size is—"

Baruti wrote down the information

"I will have someone come and get the sizes of your companions in the morning," Baruti said, adding more to the notepad. "Perhaps they would like a personal tour of the museum. We can provide a car and a personal guide."

Snape thought about this. He and Hermione had already toured the museum when they broke in and copied a few maps and texts. But Hermione seemed fascinated by it. There wasn't any time to wander about, however. She'd probably love the chance.

"Very good. And how about the pyramids?" he asked him.

"Yes, we can do a tour of those as well. There are also horse stables near the pyramids. Riding horses in the desert can be quite exhilarating."

"I don't know if she rides," Snape said, although it did sound like something both Hermione and Haruun would like.

"They have beginner outings," Baruti offered. "Horses that don't go too fast, perfect for first time riders."

Snape considered.

"Add that. And they have to eat. I don't want them getting sick—"

Baruti looked horrified and held up his hands in negation.

"Never, Mr. Snape. They will be taken to fine eating establishments and only given the most palatable foods," the concierge promised.

"Good. I need them back here by seven, and I need someone to oversee the boy for the rest of the night. He is a very mature ten, so he doesn't need someone to baby him. He needs a companion, someone that will entertain and supervise him," Snape said. "Especially keep him out of trouble. He is—rather boisterous."

"I can provide supervision. We have a number of video games, movies, and there is the pool. We even have the Wii. Most youngsters enjoy that. He will be well taken care of, Mr. Snape. I guarantee it, sir."

Snape stood up. stretched and yawned. He was very tired.

"Make it so, Mr. Massri. Good night," the wizard said, turning and heading for the elevator.

Baruti stood up as the wizard left, then turned and walked over to the front desk and entered through a door on the side.

"That is one of the ugliest, rudest guests I've ever served," Amala complained the minute the elevator doors closed.

"But his money's good," Baruti replied, walking to the back of the small area and sitting down at a computer. "And he's not cheap. This day he's planning is going to cost a pretty pound. What room are they in?"

"The Nile suite," Amala muttered.

Baruti let out a low whistle.

"Not cheap at all," he said again, typing in instructions and reservations.

* * *

Snape let himself into the room. It was just as lavish as the pamphlet describe, decorated in soft tones of red, gold and green. Large windows opened on the city of Cairo and the Nile could be seen. But Haruun and Hermione were nowhere in evidence.

Snape heard splashing coming out of one of the bedrooms. He entered to find a full-sized bed and very nice furnishings. The bathroom door was open and Snape walked in to find Haruun in a sunken tub, completely covered in bubbles, water on the floor as he splashed and played. Good thing it was tiled.

Haruun noticed him immediately and gave him a bright smile, his black hair plastered to his head and brown skin glistening, all covered in suds.

"I never knew getting clean could be so much fun. I am the Bubble King!" he said to the dour wizard, who rolled his eyes. Children.

"Well, Mr. King, I expect you out of there shortly and into bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow. You and Hermione will be going out on the town, so you need to be as rested as possible," Snape told him tightly.

"On the town? Where?" Haruun asked, sitting up in the tub now. He looked a little like an old man, suds on his head running down and forming a beard.

"There will be tours and horseback riding," Snape said. "And tomorrow night you will be staying here with a companion. Hermione and I will be out for the evening."

Haruun blinked at him.

"Where are you going?" he asked the dark wizard.

"That is none of your business. I expect you to behave yourself while we're gone," Snape told him.

"I always behave," Haruun said, sinking back into the suds. "It's just that people don't always like how I behave that is the problem."

"You will behave properly, Haruun, or there will be consequences. Painful ones," Snape hissed at him.

Snape had shocked him in the arse several times over the months for minor transgressions, and it had hurt like hell.

"I will be—an angel," Haruun promised with a smile.

Snape snorted.

"Somehow, I doubt that. Now, good night, and I want you out of there and in bed in five minutes."

Snape billowed out the door. Haruun pulled a dripping wand out of the water and used it to churn up more bubbles.

* * *

Snape located Hermione's room and quietly walked into the bathroom. She was also in a sunken tub with bubbles, a washcloth resting on her face, her bare shoulders visible as she soaked luxuriously. Little wriggles of steam rose from the water. She certainly liked it hot.

Snape stared down at her for a minute or two, then walked over to the tub and squatted on his heels, his dark eyes resting on her glistening shoulders. He reached into the water and splashed some of it on her covered face, soaking the cloth so she couldn't breathe for a moment. Hermione spluttered and quickly pulled the washcloth off her face, her brown eyes wide as she looked up at Snape.

"What do you think you're doing?" she gasped, wiping at her face with one hand.

"Getting your attention," the wizard purred. His eyes had a bit of heat in them as he looked down at her. Hermione felt her belly quiver a bit.

"Well, you've got it," she said softly.

"Good. I just wanted to tell you that I've arranged a day out for you and Haruun tomorrow. It will start with a spa treatment, then you will tour Egypt with a personal guide—"

"But I don't have any clothes," Hermione said, "but I guess I can transfigure some."

"That won't be necessary. You will be fitted for an outfit of your choice tomorrow. If you need more, just purchase them while you are out. Can you ride?"

Hermione was still trying to take everything in.

"Ride?" she said blankly.

"Horses. Can you ride horses?" he asked her.

"A little," she replied.

"Good. I've arranged a bit of desert horseback riding for you and Haruun. No doubt he will find it much different than balancing on a camel hump."

"Where will you be?" Hermione asked him.

Snape's lip quirked a little.

"I'll be busy checking on tomorrow night's weather forecast. Hopefully—the stars will be out," he said softly, allowing himself to caress her cheek with the back of his hand before standing up quickly.

"You need to get to bed," he said sharply. "After I make the proper arrangements, I will be back here at seven tomorrow evening to pick you up. I expect you to be ready—"

The wizard paused, and his face took on a rather lustful look.

"Very ready," he purred, then he billowed out the door.

Hermione looked after him, then relaxed again. For the past six months she had worked with and gotten to know the wizard better as a person. They were no longer strangers and her attraction to him hadn't lessened. It hadn't been the main focus, but she found him more attractive than she did when she started on this journey. She'd become used to his features. Although not a handsome man, his face had character and was quite expressive when he let his guard down, which he always did with her. It was only in public when he wore a stony, non-reactive and cold demeanor. He was neither non-reactive nor cold. He was volcanic.

This encounter would not be exactly like the last one. Hermione had faced death with the wizard, and there were times she had to let him see her perform bodily functions and take care of her feminine needs. There wasn't much cover in the desert. Even Ron had never witnessed that. But Snape didn't blink or comment about it, nor did he hesitate to stop and take a whiz right in front of her if he needed to, although he would remove himself a distance if he had other things to take care of. They knew as much about each other as they could possibly know. There were few secrets between them. They were equals.

And as equals, their night together couldn't be one-sided. Severus Snape knew his way around a woman's body, but tomorrow night, Hermione Granger planned to learn her way around his body, in spades.

"Oh, I'll be ready. You can believe that, Severus Tobias Snape," she breathed, wringing out the washcloth and placing it back on her face.

"Very ready."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	41. Under the Stars

**Chapter 41 ~ Under the Stars**

"Oh, stop the car!" Hermione exclaimed, her face pressed to the glass. They had just left a store where Hermione purchased Haruun and herself traveling clothes for their return to England. The spa, breakfast and museum had been wonderful and they were on their way to see the pyramids. Baruti Massri was with them, since the hotel's guide had another engagement, but Baruti had been a guide for two years, so filled the role adequately

Baruti called to the driver in Arabic and told him to stop.

"What is it, Hermione? I want to ride the horses," Haruun complained, as the witch opened the door.

"I—I need to buy something," she said. "You can wait here or go get something to eat. It's probably going to take half an hour at least."

"Half an hour? That is an eternity," Haruun groused.

Baruti, ever on the lookout to keep the peace said, "Haruun, we will go ahead to the pyramids, and I will send the car back for Miss Granger. Will that do?"

Haruun pouted a bit. It would be more fun with Hermione.

"What store are you going to?" the boy questioned.

Hermione pointed. There was a large sign in Arabic. Underneath it was one in English.

"Mad Hassan's House of Thobes, Badlahs and Other Costumes."

"That one," she said.

Haruun sounded the sign out. Hermione was teaching him to read and would never read things to him if she thought he could get it himself. He had a fairly good English vocabulary.

Baruti reddened a bit. The clothing is that store was very—revealing. The windows were blacked out because of this, so as not to give men ideas. But Hermione wanted to go in there.

"It is a woman's shop," he said to Haruun. "Nothing for you there. We will go to the pyramids. You will like it better."

"But Hassan is a man's name," Haruun argued, curious now, especially with the blackened windows. "What's in there?"

"Clothes for women," Hermione told him, getting out of the limo. "You go with Mr. Massri, Haruun. I'll catch up to you shortly. Horses, remember?"

Haruun had wanted to try riding horses since he was very little. He thought they were magnificent with their smooth backs and great speed. Much better than stupid, biting camels.

"All right. I will go. But it will not be as fun without you, Hermione," he said, falling back against the seat and folding his arms like Snape did when he was displeased.

"You won't feel that way when you see the horses," she said consolingly.

"If you are not ready in half an hour, the driver will wait," Baruti informed her.

"Thank you. Bye, Haruun," Hermione said, closing the door.

She watched the limo pull away, then walked up to the storefront, opened the door and entered.

She found herself in a small shop. Sexy Egyptian music played softly in the background and beautiful glittering costumes of all types hung on the walls and were displayed on racks. A lovely, older Egyptian woman was behind the counter, and she smiled at Hermione.

"Welcome to Hassan's," she said, walking from behind the counter.

"Hello. I'm looking for something—er—special," she said with a little embarrassment.

The woman smiled at her.

"Every woman who enters Hassan's is looking for something special. What is the occasion?" she asked Hermione.

"Ah—well, I'm going on a kind of date and want to surprise my—my companion," Hermione replied, reddening again.

The woman gave a knowing smile.

"Ah, surprise him. Yes, I think I understand," she said, looking Hermione over. She was short, but the seamstress could adjust the fit. "Come with me."

Hermione eventually found herself surrounded by three other, younger Egyptian women who were very anxious to help her pick something out. They finally did, and as Hermione was being fitted, they exclaimed over her.

"Will you dance?" one giggling girl asked her.

"Dance? No," Hermione said.

"Oh, you simply must dance when you wear a Badlah," another girl said. "It makes men mad with passion. He would give you the pyramid of Giza if he could."

"Well, I don't know how to dance in this," Hermione said, holding out her arms so the straps could be adjusted.

"Oh, there are only a few moves you need to know. We can show you," the first girl said, as the others agreed, one running to the counter, reaching behind it and turning up the music, then running back to the fitting room, pulling the privacy curtain tightly closed. The older woman smiled and just shook her head.

They were wicked girls.

* * *

When Snape entered the hotel that evening, the clerk behind the counter did a double take because he was dressed like a Bedouin, his robes black and his face wrapped so only his narrowed black eyes showed.

She stared at him as he strode to the elevator, pressed the button and waited for it. By his demeanor, she imagined he either had a room here or was someone's guest. So she didn't try to stop him out of fear of insulting him. He entered the elevator and rode up to the fourteenth floor. He exited the elevator, walked to the suite and entered.

The first sight that met his eyes was Haruun and a young man of about twenty sitting on the couch playing a video game, Haruun bouncing all over as he mowed down the enemy with a huge gun. It was quite a realistic point of view and the game was obviously very violent. Snape might have said something about this, except Haruun knew about violence first hand and was well aware what death was. He wouldn't mix up the fantasy with the reality.

Suddenly Haruun noticed him and the young man with him hit the pause button as the boy dropped the controller and ran over to the wizard, looking him over.

"You look like a desert dweller," he said, plucking at Snape's robes. Snape slapped his hand away.

"It has been my experience to dress like a native when moving among natives, Haruun. Besides, this clothing protects me from the desert during the day," he said to the boy tightly. "Now, if you are through commenting on my attire, where is Hermione?"

Haruun pointed to Hermione's bedroom.

"She's in there. She has been there for two hours, ever since we returned. And this is Ryan, my companion for the night," he said, pointing to the American sitting on the couch, who gave Snape a wave but said nothing. He was just making a few extra pounds.

Snape walked to the door just as Hermione opened it. Her hair was nicely curled, and she had on a bit of make-up, mascara and a hint of lipstick. But she wore a rather plain robe, and had a little carry-all in one hand. She gasped as she saw Snape, looking positively evil with his narrowed eyes and wrapped face. He looked as if he'd come to abduct her.

He had in a way.

"You are wearing makeup," he said shortly.

"Just a little. A woman needs to make an effort, Severus," she said to him.

Snape snorted.

"Not you. And why do you need a carry-all?"

"I just do," she snapped at him. "Stop being so critical—or—"

"Or what?" Snape growled at her. "After the day I've had witch, I need you cooperative. However, if you don't want to be cooperative, I have no problem resorting to other means, such as throwing you over my shoulder and abducting you."

Snape might have been slight of build, but he was very strong. He'd have no problem wrestling her down as long as she didn't use magic on him. Hermione thought she might like being abducted by the wizard—it would serve as foreplay, but decided against invoking his wrath, which would definitely be a part of his spiriting her away.

"Let's just go," she said, walking past him with a bit of attitude.

Snape's eyes glittered after her.

"Let's," he breathed, striding behind her.

"Haruun, you behave while we're gone," Hermione said to the youngster, who was busily blowing tanks to pieces.

"I will," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. He let out a yell as several enemies appeared, firing at him. He managed to duck behind some debris. "Ryan, where are you?"

"Right here," the young man next to him said, appearing on the screen and cutting the enemies down.

Haruun let out an Arabic war-cry that startled Hermione.

"He'll be fine. Let us go," Snape said silkily against her ear. He had walked up close behind her and pulled down his face-wrap, leaning and letting his warm breath tickle her lobe. Already he was beginning his seduction.

Hermione's eyelids fluttered.

"Let's," she breathed.

* * *

Soon, Hermione found herself on Snape's broom, tucked back against the wizard as they flew through the night sky, the stars seeming close enough to touch, the wizard's arms around her protectively as he rested his chin on her shoulder and told her about most of his day.

"My day was quite productive," Snape said softly. "I managed to recoup the finances spent on this excursion."

Hermione was surprised about this.

"How? She asked him.

"I spoke with—shall I say a philanthropist who is also a wizard, and told him of our adventure. After he made sure I was telling the truth, I negotiated a very generous finder's fee for giving him the location of Thoth's chamber. It seems he is interested in freeing the souls of those unfortunates so they can move on to the Afterlife. So our trip was not a total bust."

"That's very kind of him," Hermione said.

"Yes, and has the added bonus of making him even more suitable for entering Heaven or wherever he believes he will go after death," Snape said sarcastically.

Hermione half turned.

"Do you believe everyone who does good has to have an ulterior motive?" she asked him.

"If they're smart, yes," he replied silkily.

Hermione just sighed. Some beliefs were just ingrained in the wizard.

"I also negotiated use of his lands for tonight. Fornicating by the pyramids could get us six months in jail if we were caught, and that doesn't include public nudity and lewdness. We could find ourselves staying an additional two years in the Egyptian facilities because of our libidos. As delicious as I find you, witch, that is entirely too much time for a night of pleasure. So I made other arrangements."

They were flying over the desert now and Hermione could make out four tiny orange glows on the ground. Suddenly Snape dove toward them, Hermione letting out a scream at his speed and pressing back into him, the wizard smirking as he leveled out, circled, then landed, his boots dragging in the sand. Hermione panted against him as they came to a stop.

"We've arrived," he said softly as she quivered.

"You really need to work on your landings," Hermione said as he released her and she slid off the broom. She looked around.

"Oh, Severus," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

They were at an oasis, a landlocked lagoon surrounded by lush date palm trees and other plants and smaller fruit trees. The air was sweet and moist, and four evenly spaced torches were stuck in the sand, giving the area a warm glow. There was a small table on which sat a bowl of local fruits, wine, and two glasses. Two cushioned chairs waited by the table. Beyond this, near the water's edge was what looked like an over-sized ottoman, piled with all types of pillows and cushions. The stars glittered like diamonds above the setting. It was truly lovely and romantic.

As Hermione stood looking at the scene, Snape walked up behind her and gently slipped his arms around her waist.

"A beautiful setting, indeed ," he said softly. "And we are on private lands, so will not be interrupted. Are there enough stars for you, Hermione Granger? Enough glittering diamonds to bear witness to our passion beneath the Egyptian sky?"

Gods, Severus could speak so beautifully when he wished to do so. Hermione looked up into that great expanse, her brown eyes reflecting the myriad lights above. There were so many stars and it was all so beautiful. She turned in Snape's arms, looking up at his partially covered face, then slowly unwrapped the fabric, tossing it over his shoulder.

"Yes, there are enough stars, Severus," she said, her eyes resting on his mouth. Snape didn't hesitate and gently pressed his lips against hers, suckling them tenderly, taking his time as he initiated foreplay. Hermione marveled that such a volatile man could seem so tender. But there were moments for harshness and far too few for tenderness in Snape's life. Snape deepened the kiss, tapping at her lips with the tip of his tongue, then entering as they parted, tasting her heat and sweetness once again, his body responding.

Hermione could feel heat slowly pouring over her like honey as she felt him throbbing against her. He wasn't holding her tightly, but their bodies were in contact, and that monstrous tool of his made it clear her proximity aroused him. In turn, he aroused her.

Snape lapped at Hermione's mouth, his head twisting this way and that as he scoured every part of it, tangling her tongue in his own, unable to fight the image taking over his mind of him entwined in her limbs as he took her. He pulled back from her mouth.

"Tell me you aren't hungry, Hermione," he said softly.

He didn't want to stop to eat.

"Not for food," she replied softly.

"Good," he breathed, beginning to back her toward the ottoman. Suddenly, she stopped. She still had her little carry-all in her hand.

"Wait," she said to the wizard, whose nostrils flared with impatience.

"Wait? Hermione—" he protested, stopping anyway.

"I want to show you something," she told him.

"You can show me when we reach the bed," he said hoarsely, starting to back her up again. Hermione stalled.

"No, I'm serious. I have to show you something, Severus. Go sit on the bed and wait for me. It will only take a moment," she pleaded.

Severus let her go, dropping his hands with disgust.

"Why do women always want to ruin the moment with—atmosphere?" he groused, then stalked over to the ottoman and plopped down on it like a miffed little boy, his arms folded.

"So, show me. I'm sure whatever you have for my perusal would be far more interesting over here, than over there," he said in irritation.

"Wait, I have to go where it's dark first. Then I'll show you," Hermione said, quickly walking beyond the range of the torchlight, which was a little distance.

"Oh, good grindelows," Snape swore, his face screwed up as she disappeared. Then he leaned down and started to take off his boots and socks. He might as well do something constructive as Hermione wasted good shagging time.

He sat up again, barefoot and ready. A couple of minutes passed.

"Hermione!" he called, "Blast and bother! What are you doing?"

Suddenly, he could make out a shape walking toward him. He squinted, then his eyes widened as Hermione walked, rather sexily into the torchlight.

Snape's jaw dropped as he took in what the witch wore. It looked like, like a traditional Egyptian slave girl costume. Of course it wasn't, it was a Badlah, a belly-dancing costume, but Snape was a man. Slave just jumped out at him.

Hermione was veiled, her curly hair pulled back slightly by a golden band. Her taunt belly was exposed, the bra portion of her outfit featuring a halter neck strap and over arm straps. A slim t-shaped belt was attached to it. The scarlet outfit had a pattern of rows made of gold sequins, and several types of barrel beads. Silver diamontes formed a pattern of pyramids and cartouches. Two slits ran up the sides of the skirt, exposing a hint of thigh on either side. She also wore matching gloves and an arm band. She entwined her arms, snaking them upward. She looked amazing.

Snape's mouth worked, but nothing came out as he looked at the veiled woman standing in front of him bathed in torchlight. He stood up and began to walk toward her, his eyes glittering.

"No, wait," Hermione said softly, holding out her hand. "Sit back down, Severus. This isn't the only thing I wanted to show you."

Snape stopped, his body quivering as he forced it back under control. It wanted the woman standing there looking like every man's fantasy. He stiffly backed up until the back of his legs hit the ottoman, then he sat down. His pale face was sober as he looked at Hermione. Dear gods, he needed to get his hands and other parts on her. She was a succubus.

Hermione slowly walked toward him, swaying her hips the way the girls at the shop had taught her.

"Every movement of your body must be an invitation," they told her as they stood in a line, showing her how to thrust and roll her hips and belly.

Hermione couldn't actually roll her belly, but she could still make it move sensuously. And she could shake her bum and breasts. It would be more than adequate.

Snape sat still as stone, only a low whine-like sound escaping his throat as Hermione began to move, the only music necessary—the age old song of desire.

* * *

A/N: Go Hermione! Lol. Well, we're on our way, girls. :) Thanks for reading!


	42. Under the Stars Continued

**Chapter 42 ~ Under the Stars Continued**

Snape's eyes locked to Hermione's undulating body and he slowly lowered the wrap around his head as she swung her hips back and forth, then extended her arms on either side, palms up and sensuously shimmied, her breasts, then turned to the side, exposing her leg and winding her body before slowly dropping to her heels, moving her body in a perfect imitation of the cowgirl position, then slowly easing up, turning her back towards him and shaking her arse.

Severus Snape had never experienced this before, a woman purposely tantalizing him in such a manner. He was thoroughly smitten, and not just because of Hermione so wantonly advertising her wares, but because she had gone through so much trouble to do this for him. She was beautiful, delicious, amazing as she glimmered in the torchlight, widening her stance and whirling her hair about wildly before taking a step toward him, thrusting out her hip and winding it slowly, so slowly, then repeating it with the other leg, easing toward him.

It felt as if every muscle in his body was taut and tense. He wanted to spring on her as she came closer, finally stopping about five feet away, her eyes heated as she saw how tight his jaw was, his hands clenched into fist and desire so plain on his face. She had the power here, and he had to acknowledge it as she danced for him beneath the stars, almost close enough to touch. Not touching her was a delicious torture. Snape's cock was so full of blood that it was nearly painful and he shifted on the ottoman, swallowing, his Adam's apple working up and down as Hermione danced. She turned again, her round buttocks swinging side to side, then she bent over, her hands touching the ground, giving Snape a luscious view of it's roundness before she dropped down to her heels again, slowly gyrating upward and turning to face him.

"Do you like my dancing?" she asked him softly, still moving, rolling her belly as best she could as she looked at the wizard.

"Yesssss," Snape hissed. "Come here, witch."

Hermione gave him a naughty smile.

"Not yet. I think you need a bit more teasing," she replied with a wicked toss of her hair, which was now wild around her head, the curl slowly falling.

"You don't want to tease me too much, Hermione," Snape said thickly.

"I'll take my chances," she purred at him, increasing her movements.

Hermione tantalized and taunted Snape this way for twenty minutes, the wizard jerking slightly as he fought to remain seated. It was when she took another step forward and danced directly in front of him that he lost it and leapt to his feet, grabbing the witch. But instead of taking her down to the bed, he backed her up against a palm tree, kissing her passionately, overwhelming her with his ardor and desire, pressing against her body almost desperately, his breathing harsh.

When he broke the kiss, he was still breathing hard, leaning his forehead against hers as he caressed her shoulders, sides and hips, running one pale hand down her exposed thigh.

"I haven't yet begun to love you, Hermione Granger and already I feel I can't go deep enough inside you," he said to her, his voice raw. His mouth found her throat, and Hermione tilted her head to the side, her eyelids half closing with pleasure as he suckled her tenderly, but she could still feel the urgency of his body as he pressed against her.

What Snape said managed to register with Hermione's desire-soaked brain enough for her to dreamily respond. Gods, he felt so good against her. He needed to be closer.

"Love me?" she breathed.

"Yes," Snape murmured against her ear as he began to rub against her in earnest, his full blown erection pressing into her pelvis from beneath his robes. "Love you, Hermione. It makes no sense to pretend I have no tender feelings for you. If I am capable of loving, then I am most certainly in love with you and there's nothing for it, even if you do not return my love. I am—am used to that. I can deal with my love being unreturned as long as there are times like this, when you want and need me physically—"

He hungrily covered her mouth again, unable to continue expressing himself verbally. He could show her how he felt—and would.

Hermione thought Snape's declaration of love was the sweetest and saddest thing she had ever heard, a mixture of hope and resignation, of acceptance and self-depreciation. Instead of opting for everything that love entails, the care, the emotional bond, the loyalty, Snape was willing to take whatever he could get, as if he were unworthy and deserved nothing more.

And he had the nerve to call Gryffindors martyrs.

Hermione pulled away from his kiss and looked up into his pale face. He was no handsomer than the night she first engaged him, but as far as being desirable, there was no one else on the face of the planet that could hold a torch to Severus Snape. Volatile, snarky, courageous, dangerous, argumentive, sarcastic and positively addictive, he was the ideal wizard for her. Life would never be dull or routine with him. Ever.

"I'm going to want and need you for a long, long time, Severus Snape," Hermione told him softly, brown eyes locked to black eyes, "and it will be for more than just physical reasons. You're a bloody bastard most of the time, and I love you that way."

Snape stared down at her for a moment, then gave her a small smirk.

"At last. A woman who understands me," he replied, then covered her mouth again with his own and scooped her up into his arms. Snape was elated at her response, but hid it well. She'd know how he felt once they engaged. He'd make sure of it.

He turned toward the ottoman, kissing Hermione hungrily as he quickly approached the most important piece of furniture at the oasis. He gently lay her down among the cushions and pillows and looked down at her thoughtfully for a minute or two, Hermione getting impatient.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded as the wizard ran his forefinger over his lips while he considered her.

"Trying to decide if I want to take you with or without that costume on," Snape replied, frowning slightly. "On or off? On or off?"

Suddenly Hermione grabbed him by the wrist and yanked the surprised and off-balanced Potions master into the bed with her, rolling on top of him. The startled wizard looked up at her.

"You can decide that while we get comfortable," she breathed, kissing him passionately.

Snape was caught completely off-guard. This was something else entirely new to him, a witch who took charge. Where had this Hermione come from? She was a far cry from the young woman who came to him Christmas night needing to feel what it was to be truly desired and surrendering to him. This Hermione was on the attack and apparently taking no prisoners.

No Hermione wasn't taking prisoners. She just felt it time to flip the script and let Severus Snape know what it was to be truly desired for a change. It was wonderful to be able to give pleasure, but everyone deserved to be pleasured as well. As far as Hermione was concerned, Severus Snape the teacher was now—the student.

* * *

Now, Hermione didn't suddenly develop any super sexual skills. She was still the same witch that had been with Ron in a rather routine relationship. But it was only routine because of the lack of passion. There was no lack of passion with Severus. In fact, he was very compelling because she knew he probably never had a woman want him the way she did, and any act she performed on him would be elevated to the Nth power. And she was going to perform acts. She definitely wanted to blow him, well as best she could. He was too huge to really do much to mouth-wise, but that's why she had hands. She was also going to kiss him all over, much like he had done to her that first night. What was good for the witch was good for the wizard. She stopped kissing him and felt rather naughty as she looked down on his pale visage.

"You certainly are—aggressive," he said to her, an odd look in his eyes.

"You have no idea," Hermione said, sitting up on him and starting to unbutton his robes. He just watched her, not protesting as she slid back and pulled them open, revealing his thin body and huge erection wrapped in worn, slightly threadbare but comfortable grayish cotton briefs.

Hermione blinked at them, then looked up at Snape.

"Don't you have anything other than worn-out underwear?" she asked him. "They're not sexy, you know."

Snape scowled at her for insulting his undies.

"What you call 'worn' I call comfortable. With a cock as big as mine, comfort is an issue," he snapped at her. "These briefs are worn in all the right places and no matter how I shift and move about, I am not restricted and don't chafe. You can't purchase that kind of comfort. It has to be developed. I will go for 'comfort' rather than 'sexy' any day of the week. Besides—"

Snape suddenly pulled his huge cock out of its graying confines.

"It's what's in my briefs that is sexy—don't you agree?" he purred at her, grasping the base and shaking his cock like a slightly rubbery club.

If Hermione hadn't seen his long, thick tool before, she probably would have fainted or at least fled the bed. Snape smirked at her lewdly as she slowly shook her head as he shook his.

"With you shaking it like that, it's more scary than sexy," she said, although knowing what he could do with it was sending thrills through her.

Snape let it go, his black eyes softening as he gripped her waist and pulled her downward, brushing her hair out of her face as he gazed up at her.

"Never be scared of anything about me, Hermione," he said softly. "I would never intentionally hurt you—although there will be less than perfect moments between us. You know how I can be. It is my nature, witch. But I have nothing but the best intentions towards you. As I said, you have my love, for what it's worth."

"It's worth a great deal, Severus, believe me," she told him, kissing him again before pulling away from his mouth.

"Let me show you how much," she breathed as she tilted his head back and kissed his pale throat. She was still straddling his body, his robes still on his arms and opened, spread under him. She slid the fabric off his shoulder and kissed it, feeling him shudder as her lips moved over his skin. Her eyes cut to his face, and his eyes were tightly closed and his mouth slightly pursed as he savored the feel of her mouth on him this way.

Slowly Hermione pulled his arm out of the voluminous sleeve, kissing it, and bringing his hand to her mouth. She had a wicked thought and suckled his fingers. The wizard's eyes flew open and he looked up at her, his digits in her soft warm mouth. He swallowed audibly, but said nothing as she licked his palm, and slipped her tongue between his fingers. She had never done this to Ron, but was moved to do it for Severus. He tasted like the desert, clean and hot.

She returned to his mouth, claiming it, the wizard letting her do what she wished and reveling in her attentions. This was so much more than he was used to and he wanted to see just how far she would go in her foreplay before he took over.

As Hermione began to kiss and lick his chest, suckling his nipples, nipping at his skin and slowly shifting lower, her lips and hands moving over his jerking belly and sides, he thought maybe she intended to go the distance. As she kissed his body, Snape caressed as much of her body as he could reach, his hands moving over skin and fabric. Suddenly, he gasped and arched as Hermione's lips kissed the top of his thigh, and he felt her hot hand wrap around his organ. He quickly adjusted the pillows, moving upward, his breath quickening as she looked up at him.

"Do you want me to?" she asked him, holding his cock before her lip, her warm breath washing over him

Snape's eyes were rather wet now. He almost couldn't process all the emotions the witch was drawing out of him. He wasn't used to such attention and it was almost overwhelming. He fought to keep from taking over, from moving back into the familiar, comfortable role of sexual aggressor. Up to this point he never realized how much giving was required to be taken, how much trust it required, how much toning down of the self was necessary to accept another's control. It truly was a learning experience, and he wanted to learn, to experience more of what Hermione was showing him.

"Yes," he said softly, then his eyelids fluttered as her warm mouth slipped over the head of his cock, all heat, softness and suction.

"Ahhhh," he sighed with pleasure at the sensation and at the erotic sight of Hermione with her mouth wrapped around his organ. She began to bob gently, one hand catching the wetness of her saliva slipping down his shaft and spreading it over his skin like lube, then fisting him slowly.

"Hermione," he purred, that rich voice dripping pleasure as she kissed her way down his length and took his balls into her mouth, rolling them gently, caressing them with her tongue, listening to him groan with pleasure. She had never really enjoyed fellatio with Ron. There was always a sense of him taking—with Severus, it felt like giving, as if she were in control.

And she was, as the wizard gently caressed her hair, not pushing her down or forcing anything, just accepting and appreciating her for the gift, and it was a gift. She didn't have to do this. She wanted to, and that went straight to Snape's heart, opening it even more for Hermione to enter. She kissed her way back up his shaft, nipping it lightly with her teeth, causing him to shudder, borderline nervous and borderline orgasmic. When she reached the tip, she kissed it and looked up at him.

Snape traced her lips with his finger-tip.

"You beautiful, sexy witch," he said softly.

Hermione gave him a tender smile and returned to her worship of his body, Snape's eyes rolling up into his head as she applied herself even more ardently, bringing him to the edge, his back arching, belly tightening. Helplessly, he locked his fingers in her hair and let out a quiet, ecstatic groan as he climaxed into her mouth, pleasure and surprise pouring through him as he released, Hermione staying with him until the last, dying pulse.

He hadn't known she'd swallow.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading


	43. Under the Stars Finale

**Chapter 43 ~ Under the Stars (Finale)**

Hermione gently released his spent organ from her mouth and kissed his thighs, making the wizard shudder again before he reached down and pulled her up his body, kissing her appreciatively before looking up at her.

"That was quite the surprise," he said to her softly.

"I'm full of surprises," Hermione replied with a smile.

Snape didn't smile back as his black eyes met hers. Suddenly, he rolled Hermione over to her back, leaning over her, his lank hair curtaining his face as his dark eyes glittered down at her. The flickering torchlight gave him an almost sinister, unearthly cast.

"You're going to be full of me shortly," he breathed down at her, reaching under her neck and untying the halter. "To the brim, witch. But first, I've got to get you out of this costume. I've decided skin to skin is best. Besides—"

Snape untied the halter and drew the bead fabric down, revealing Hermione's breasts, the nipples tightly puckered as she stared up at him.

"If you wore this, I'd find it difficult to do this—"

Snape lowered his head and his warm mouth covered one hardened peak, suckling gently as she arched and sighed with pleasure. He swirled his tongue, tapping and licking, sending little electric thrills through her body before switching to her other breast and giving it the same attention. Hermione's sighs and moans were like music, and his mouth moved upward. He kissed her throat and shoulders tenderly before returning to her lips and possessing them. His kisses were languorous, slow and intimate as he lapped at her tongue, easing a response from her that was body-wide. Her thighs shifted impatiently.

"You seem anxious," he breathed against her lips, "but I'm not ready yet. Here—"

Hermione buckled as Snape slid one hand down her belly, under the elastic of her skirt and the thin strap of her thong, his long fingers sliding to her apex.

"Spread your thighs," he said quietly, staring down at her now, watching her reaction as she obeyed him, Hermione gasping as his digits slipped between her folds. He began to massage her clit and labia, moving three fingers in a gentle, circular motion, Hermione letting out a hoarse moan of pleasure, her eyes distant and half-lidded as her pelvis moved in tangent with his fingers' motions.

"So beautiful," Snape breathed down at her, altering the movement of his fingers, making larger and smaller circles against her softness, slipping his other hand under her head to cradle it, then covering her mouth with his own.

They lay beneath the stars, engaged and undulating, Snape taking Hermione to the heights with just his mouth and his fingertips, his hungry, tender kisses giving her the emotional connection she needed as his moistened digits played her body like an instrument, her voice hitting the notes he desired to hear.

"Come for me, Hermione," he breathed against her mouth, his gentle fingers quickening, feeling her hardened, swollen clit pressed against the tips. "Quid pro quo, my love. Quid pro quo—under the stars."

Hermione heard him, her eyes opening and looking into his face, Snape's eyes narrowed as he whispered to her, summoning the tide, lifting her on the crest of his desire and letting her crash against the shores with a shriek, her very being seeming to melt away with her release.

"Yesssss," Snape breathed at her, slowly sliding his drenched fingers from beneath her skirt, leaving a slight, wet trail on her exposed belly before bringing them to his mouth, cleaning her musky sweetness from his hand, his dark eyes not leaving her flushed face as she floated earthward, back to Egypt—back to him.

Hermione was aware of Snape rolling her towards him and undoing the lower part of her halter and drawing it away. Then, he rolled on top of her for a moment, grabbing his own robes and slinging them away from the ottoman. He shifted downward, his nude body colored by the flickering torchlight, his erection back full force. Hermione gazed at his thin frame as he drew down her skirt, urging her to lift her hips.

She did so as if in a dream, feeling the fabric sliding over her legs. Then, she felt another thinner fabric slid over her skin. Her moistened thong.

Snape held it against his nose for a moment, inhaling deeply before also tossing it and the skirt aside so there was nothing left on the bed to impede them. He looked down at Hermione stretched out before him, her nude body shining slightly from perspiration, her eyes resting on his face before slowly moving down his body, resting on his erection. He could almost feel her gaze moving over his skin, and bit his lip as she licked hers.

He suddenly fell forward, catching himself on his hands, startling Hermione as his face hovered an inch over hers.

"I believe a little cleanup is in order," he purred, kissing her lightly, then quickly sliding his lips over her body, making a beeline for her thighs and the remaining sweetness pooled between them. Hermione let out a squeal as Snape mercilessly dove to her core, his tongue swirling over and around her clit, labia and inner thighs as he collected the remnants of her orgasm. She tried to push him away, the feel of his tongue just too much sensation, but the wizard caught both her hands by the wrists and continued his "maintenance" ignoring her shrill protests and jerking pelvis until all he tasted was skin.

Snape lifted his head and looked up at the panting witch, her breasts rising and falling prettily. He still had a good hold on her wrists. Hermione took in the view of his pale face between the vee of her raised thighs.

"Come up here," she breathed softly.

Severus obliged her, moving slowly, his shoulders flexing like those of a big cat as he climbed over her body, then lay full length on top of her, his cock trapped between them, long, hard and throbbing as he looked down at her. She could smell her own scent on him, then tasted it as he kissed her deeply.

When he broke the kiss, he caressed her damp hair and said, "You are delicious in more ways than one, Hermione Granger."

A breeze flowed over their bodies, slightly moist from the water, cooling them and carrying the sweet scent of flowers and fruit trees on the night air. Hermione looked up at the stars again, and let out a little sigh of happiness.

"I never thought it could be like this for me," she said softly. "A little more than a year ago, my life was all laid out for me. I was going to work at Hogwarts, get married and start a family. I was going to have an ordinary life."

"It would have been an existence, not a life, Hermione," Snape said to her softly. "You were meant for more than just existing. You were meant for this. Challenge, adventure and nights among the stars with a man who appreciates everything about you. Even the irritating little quirks."

"Irritating little quirks? What quirks? If you want to talk about being quirky, Severus Snape—" Hermione seethed, starting to get angry, struggling under him and inadvertently stimulating the wizard at the same time as she rolled against his stiff organ.

Snape gtimaced then pressed into her hard, shifting his loins back and forth, the foreskin of his cock slipping back and forth, causing him to hiss.

"We could be expending our energy in better ways than quarreling, witch," he said, kissing her again and continuing his movements against her. Hermione had stopped struggling the moment he began to move and remind her of the more immediate situation, her hands sliding over his shoulders, down his scarred back, over his clenching flanks and back

Snape continued kissing Hermione, his body flexing, hands caressing her hips and thighs until she thought she would explode from want.

"Please, Severus," she murmured against his mouth. "The real thing. You're driving me crazy."

* * *

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* * *

Snape pulled back from her mouth, his eyes glinting as he shifted his body lower, raising himself up on one hand as he reached down and grasped the base of his cock, dragging the thick head over Hermione's core as he positioned himself at her slick entrance. She let out a groan at his heat and hardness as the thick head pressed against her core.

"As I promised," Snape said softly as he penetrated Hermione slowly, parting her soft flesh and entering her warm, tight, moist sleeve. Hermione's mouth dropped open as his cock slid through her deliciously, his length and girth filling her completely.

Snape's thin lips pursed with pleasure as he stared down at her, then lower to where their bodies met, a third of his cock visible. He pulled back slightly, Hermione letting out a moan as he watched more of his thick shaft appear, caressed by her inner flesh and surrounded by her curling brown hair.

"Mmmm," Snape murmured, pressing himself back inside the witch. "It almost feels like Christmas—again. Doesn't it, Hermione?"

Hermione couldn't answer, she was so overwhelmed by the sensation of him inside her.

Snape smirked down at his lover.

"This is quite a compelling way to silence you," he whispered as he drew back and slowly stroked her again, whirling his loins and winding his cock inside her.

"Oooh," Hermione breathed, her face twisting in pleasure.

"Did you say something?" Snape purred at her, drawing back and stroking into her again, a bit harder this time, with a sharper twist and wind of his loins, jerking her body slightly.

"OOoooOo," Hermione gasped, her hands clenching in reaction, and nails digging into his sides this time. Good thing she kept them well trimmed. She only left impressions, not scratches. Snape growled at the slight pain and began to take the witch in earnest, holding himself above her, penetrating Hermione with slow, deliberate deep strokes.

Hermione's hands slid to Snape's shoulders as she moaned beneath him, his dark eyes shifting from her face, to her bouncing breasts to the juncture of their bodies. He paused to hook his arms under Hermione's thighs, pulling them upward, trapping them under his arms.

"Oh gods, Severus," Hermione breathed up at him as he drove deeper, still gentle in the possession, shifting his angle to give her and himself the greatest pleasure.

"Can you feel me, Hermione?" the wizard asked her, suddenly falling still, embedded deep in her body, his eyes questioning. "Can you feel what's burning inside me while I'm inside you? I want no other witch—no other woman—"

He began to tremble, his emotions beginning to well over

"I feel it, Severus," Hermione gasped up at him, her eyes wet from both his loving and his struggle to make her understand what he was feeling. "I don't want any other wizard—no other man—"

Severus stared down at her, then suddenly dropped onto her body, covering her mouth with his own, tangling her tongue in his own. He began to stroke her hard and deep, unable to help himself, feeling as if he couldn't get close enough, deep enough as he tore into her body, Hermione's muffled cries filling his mouth as his brain shut down and body went into automatic for several minutes. The night was filled with the sound of their slapping bodies, their groans, sighs and cries of pleasure as Snape took Hermione with abandon.

Perspiration poured down the wizard's back as he sought to claim everything about the witch under him. He wanted more than her body. He wanted her mind, her soul and anything else that made her who she was. He laid his cheek against hers and reached under their bodies, grasping two handfuls of her arse and drove into her, pulling her into his stroke, listening to her cry out his name over and over. It was when he felt the warm wetness of her tears against his face that sanity returned and he managed to stop, releasing her and rolling to the side, pulling her against him, caressing her hair as he fought to catch his breath. But he didn't exit her exquisite body. He was still hard as iron, still hungry for her. She shuddered in his arms, her breath coming in gasps. He wiped at her tears, a bit afraid he'd gone too far.

"I'm sorry," he breathed at her. "Hermione, I'm sorry—I—I couldn't stop. I don't know what came over me—I just—I just—"

Snape fell silent. He didn't have any excuse other than he wanted to lose himself in her, and had done so. It was the first time in his life he had ever lost control with a witch. He always knew what he was doing. He was always controlled, precise, every stroke serving a purpose, measured to bring the most pleasure before ejaculation. If he went "animal" it was a conscious decision to pummel and break. That hadn't been the case this time.

He'd lost it, and he promised her he would never hurt her.

Hermione shuddered in his arms, her breathing easier now. She knew what happened. She saw the look in his eyes when she told him she wanted no other man. He was overcome with emotion, and he wasn't used to expressing emotion. So his body took over, his passion and yes, his love.

She looked into his stricken face. For the first time, she saw fear in those black eyes. They had nearly been killed several times on this expedition, by cave-ins, guards, sudden sandstorms and more. Not once did he seem afraid. But now, holding her in his arms, she could see he was frightened—because of her.

"It's all right, Severus," she said softly. "I'm still alive—barely."

She gave him a weak little smile. His face relaxed and he kissed her tenderly, still embedded inside her, longing to move again. He jerked slightly, and tensed, blinking rapidly as he pulled away from her mouth.

"We can keep going," she said to him, brushing his hair out of his face. "Just—just take it easy."

"I will," he promised, gathering her in his arms a bit tighter and beginning to move, gently, Hermione sighing with pleasure as they lay face to face. Snape was restrained now, careful, as if Hermione was made of glass. Hermione could feel his reticence.

"Stop," she told him suddenly.

Snape did as she asked, his brow creased.

"I see I'm going to have to take over. You've lost your nerve," the witch said, rolling the wizard to his back and climbing on top of him.

"Lost—lost my nerve?" Snape spluttered, then his eyes rolled up in his head as Hermione slid her pussy over him, tight, hot and wet. She leaned forward, grasped his shoulders and rolled her hips, twisting the wizard inside her.

"Sweet Merlin," the wizard gasped as Hermione began to fuck him. That was the only description of what the witch did that fit. She rode the wizard like a jockey into the final stretch, tightening her muscles as she rose and fell, burying his cock deep into her body again and again, even slapping his face a little, which shocked and secretly delighted him to the point he began to help her. Soon, they were going at it just as ardently as when he was on top of her and there were no complaints as they both howled, Snape clutching her waist so tightly, he left little bruise marks on her slippery skin.

Hermione Granger was an animal, a wanton, luscious, sexual animal who knew what she wanted and how she wanted it. For the first time in his life, Severus Snape was on the receiving end.

It wasn't a bad place to be.

He felt Hermione beginning to tighten around him and sped up, trying to keep up with her, her clutching sleeve milking him, drawing him closer to the precipice, Hermione bouncing on him with abandon, shining in the torchlight, her hair completely in wet ringlets and not a drop of makeup left on her face. He thought her the most passionate, beautiful creature on earth as the dam burst, both of them hitting the flow together, howling the other's name as they melded, becoming one, bodies caught in an infinite moment in time, crashing together and whirling in a torrent of ecstasy, pulse meeting pulse, flow meeting flow, bodies and mouths locked together as they spun, ebbing, drifting back, hearts pounding as they quivered against each other, exhausted and exhilarated under the star-filled sky.

Damn, that had been good.

Hermione lay on top of Snape, who embraced her weakly with one arm and caressed her hair as he tried to catch his breath. He felt weak as a kitten and thoroughly drained, sure that every ounce of sperm he had in his body was swimming about inside Hermione. It wouldn't reach shore though.

She wore a patch.

Hermione rested on top of Severus, her face tucked into his throat, still straddling him with her knees, her core resting against his flaccid cock, arse up in the air. She was exhausted, too. She really needed to roll off of him, but she was too comfortable.

They fell asleep that way, entwined and connected, the only witnesses to their peaceful slumber—the twinkling stars above.

* * *

A/N: At last. :) Snape probably wouldn't have appreciated my song choice, but :::shrugs::: I thought most of the lyrics were suitable. I've always loved that song. Thanks for reading. ***


	44. Epilogue

**Chapter 44 ~ Epilogue**

Hermione awoke in a snoring Severus' arms, the sun just rising over the horizon. He had both arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled against his body, facing him.

She couldn't move.

What had awakened her was the sound of gurgling. Heavy gurgling as if a water tower were leaking out a large amount of water. If she were going to investigate, she'd have to wake the sleeping wizard. She wriggled a little.

"Severus," she said softly.

The wizard's dark eyes opened and rested on her for a moment, then she felt a throb against her belly as the rest of him woke up. He tightened his hold on her, pressing his erection against her. Then he attempted to roll on top of her, his intentions clear.

Who needed stars?

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed, kicking out her leg to stop him.

"Watch it," Severus growled at her, thinking his goods were in danger.

"Stop being so randy and listen," Hermione hissed at him.

Scowling, Severus did just that, then suddenly released Hermione, sitting up and looking toward the oasis. The loud gurgling noise was coming from behind a clump of bushes.

He climbed over Hermione and picked up his robes, searching through it for his wand. He quickly Scourgified himself as Hermione slid out of the bed and quickly pulled on her skirt and tied her halter loosely. Her robes and wand were still where she left them last night, out past the last torch. She moved closer to Severus, following him. The wizard was fully dressed now and cautiously moving through the foliage surrounding the water.

He crouched, and Hermione crouched behind him, trying to see over his shoulder as he parted a few broad leaves as he peered out.

He blinked, then stood up and walked through the foliage.

"What is it?" Hermione hissed.

"A camel getting a drink," Snape replied as he walked up on the beast, which was thirstily drinking down a huge amount of water.

"Oh," Hermione sighed, walking up to the dromedary. Its flank had a little hairless scar on it.

"Oh, this is our camel!" she exclaimed as the beast finished drink and looked at her and Snape dully. "See, that's where I healed it. The hair won't grow back."

"We don't have a camel," Snape said, walking back toward the ottoman. He was starving.

"Come with me," Hermione told the camel, who grunted at her as she took the rope. It stalled as she tried to lead it through the palm trees.

"Come along," Hermione hissed, jerking on the rope, much as Haruun had when the camel stalled at entering the narrow alley. There was the same result, Hermione falling on her bum and nearly getting stepped on as the camel suddenly moved forward. She scrambled out of the way, her naked arse showing for a moment.

"Bloody camel," she hissed leading the beast back through the foliage to find a scowling Severus standing near the table where all the fruit had been the night before.

It was gone.

The wizard looked at the camel.

"Apparently, it ate before it drank," he said as Hermione released the camel and walked a little distance to where her carry-all rested in the sand. She pulled out her wand and her clothing, Scourgifying herself quickly and getting dressed.

She walked back to Severus, who asked, "You didn't happen to pack the cornucopia with you, did you?"

"No, I didn't think we'd need it," she replied.

The camel stared at them stupidly.

"I don't think it knows how to get back home, Severus. We're going to have to drop it off," Hermione said, catching hold of the rope.

Snape thought he might leave it here. Not only had it interrupted morning coitus, it had eaten all the food. Death was too good for it. But, there was Hermione, holding the rope and looking expectant. Snape knew where the camel merchant's location was, so with a sigh he walked up to Hermione and took her arm.

"Very well," he said shortly, then suddenly leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was a very nice one. He pulled back, looking a bit awkward.

"I'll have to get used to doing that without expecting any further activity," he told her softly.

Hermione smiled at him.

"You certainly will. Not every kiss leads to sex," she informed him.

"I know. More's the pity," the Potions master replied tersely, then they all, including the camel, Disapparated.

* * *

The ungrateful camel dragged Hermione about thirty feet as it fled after reappearing in the desert several hundred yards away from the merchant camp. Once again traumatized by Apparition, it recognized its surroundings and made a beeline for the camel stalls.

Hermione left a trail in the sand, yelling "whoa!" at the camel as she tried to release her hand from the doubled over rope while Snape looked on in amusement. She looked as if she were water skiing, but in the sand as she skidded along.

He could have helped her, but then again, she could have helped his morning erection, gurgling or not. He watched her break free and flop face first into the sand. She got up spluttering, brushing sand from her robes and face, then shaking her fist at the long-gone camel.

"Stupid, bloody camel. I should have left you there," she hissed walking over to Severus and taking his arm with a bit of attitude.

"Get us back to the hotel," she griped.

He smirked at her, cast a Silencing spell around them this time and did just that.

* * *

Hermione, Snape and Haruun Malik Snape boarded the airplane heading back to England.

Yes, Haruun Malik Snape. Adopting him wasn't anything the Potions master intended, but he snapped, so now, he had a son. He didn't exactly acquire him legally—well he did—in a way. It depends on one's outlook.

Here's the short version.

The day before they were supposed to leave Egypt, Snape, Hermione and Haruun went to the consulate to pick up Haruun's papers so the boy could accompany them. Snape had made his application months ago and believed they had gone through.

When he requested the paperwork, they were taken to an office where Snape received the third degree.

"I was told it would be a simple matter to take the boy. He's an orphan after all," Snape said angrily to the rotund man sitting behind the desk in a vest and fez. He looked a lot like Mr. Answany, which didn't help matters in the least.

"We have concerns, Mr. Snape. Firstly, the boy is Muslim. How do we know he will be free to practice his faith with you?"

Snape snorted.

"Easily. I am completely godless. He could worship a dragon's business end if he wanted to do so. It makes no difference to me," the wizard snapped.

Hermione groaned. Severus wasn't making a good case for himself. Being godless was not a shining symbol of good character.

"Secondly, we have no references as to your character. Your financial status is more than adequate, but we are not in the habit of selling our young boys to rich foreigners. Rich, unmarried foreigners."

Hermione winced as Snape looked outraged.

"What are you implying?" he snarled.

The man didn't look the least bit frightened, although he should have.

"Nothing, Mr. Snape, but traffic in young boys for sex goes on every day. You cannot take Haruun until you meet certain qualifications. It would be easier to adopt the boy than assume guardianship."

Snape stared at the man. Haruun didn't say a word, but looked upset as he leaned against Hermione, who had her arm around his shoulder protectively.

"Fine, I'll adopt him, then," Snape said.

Hell, he was going to be responsible for him anyway. Haruun perked up immediately, a huge smile breaking out on his face. Mr. Snape wasn't going to leave him.

"All right. Go back out to the office and fill out the paperwork. You will be called in for an interview in about four months."

That's when Snape went berserk and Imperio'd everyone, from the clerk who gave him the paperwork, to the scheduler, to the board that examined backgrounds, to the judges that signed the paperwork and anyone else that had anything to do with adoptions.

Hermione and Haruun followed him silently as he went from place to place, finding out the next step in the process and where it had to be done and heading there, flicking spells like water until he had the adoptions papers stamped, sealed, filed and legal.

"Blasted bureaucracy," he growled as he strode ahead of them, heading back to the hotel, Haruun wearing a bright smile.

Snape was his father now.

"I believe in spanking," he informed Haruun.

"It is better than hexing my bottom," the boy replied with a smile.

"I still believe in that, too," the dark wizard said.

But Snape could have said he believed in the death penalty and Haruun wouldn't have lost that delighted smile. Hermione couldn't lose hers either. Severus hadn't hesitated when told it would be easier to adopt the young Egyptian. He was already committed to him and didn't intend to leave him behind. If it took magic to get him to England, then that was what had to get him there.

* * *

They sat in coach on the flight back, Snape irritated because Haruun kept leaning over him to look out the window and dropping peanut casings on his robes. Hermione was in the aisle seat.

"Should I call you 'father' or 'papa?'" Haruun asked him brightly.

Snape scowled down at him and Hermione hid her grin behind her hand as the dour wizard eyed the boy.

"You can call me 'Professor.' It's easier on the ear," Snape said tightly. "My ear."

"All right, Professor," Haruun said, then yawned and rested his head on Snape's shoulder.

Snape glowered at him, but to no effect. Haruun's eyes were closed. Snape continued to look down at the boy for a few seconds, and then looked over at Hermione, who was giving him a tender look. Snape's glower grew blacker and he quickly looked out the window as if something very interesting were out there. But he didn't move Haruun's head.

* * *

Since they had a few months before the new term at Hogwarts started, they had to decide what to do while waiting for Haruun to get his letter.

Hermione intended to go home to her parents, find temporary employment and rent her own flat. Snape blew a torch right at the airport.

"What? You come home from an adventure and go home to mummy and daddy?" the wizard seethed at her, snatching her luggage out of her hand. "That's—that's insane and juvenile! Have some pride!"

Hermione scowled at him.

"Severus, I don't have money like you do. I have to work with what I've got!" she informed him, grabbing at her bag. Snape held it out of reach.

Haruun sat on a bench with his chin resting in his hands, looking bored. He was used to them arguing. He wished they would hurry up. There was a whole new country to explore.

Snape stared at Hermione, realizing she was right. He had made arrangements to provide for her while they were traveling, but he hadn't thought about what she'd do when they had stopovers in England between adventures.

"Well—well I have work for you to do," Snape told her. "The next journey has to be planned and the details taken care of. I am letting you choose the next potion to look for, so you'll have plenty to keep you busy."

"And where am I supposed to live?" Hermione asked him pointedly.

Snape swallowed and actually ran his finger around his collar, looking a little paler than usual.

"With me," he said softly, then amended the statement. "With me and Haruun. You seem to be able to handle him better than I do."

Hermione blinked up at him.

"You want me to—to live with you and Haruun?" she asked him.

Snape cleared his throat.

"It makes sense. I have to rent a flat, after all. What difference would it make if it were two-bedroom or three-bedroom?" he asked her rather harshly.

"And what would I do for money?" she asked him.

"Same arrangements as when we travel. I'll recoup my expenditures eventually," Snape replied.

Eventually? Hermione stared at him and Snape's face turned expressionless, which meant he was trying to hide something. And that something was that he wanted Hermione with him. He didn't want to beg, however.

Hermione gave him a small smile.

"I'd prefer two-bedroom," she said softly.

* * *

Hermione and Haruun were walking in Diagon Alley, heading for Knockturn Alley to pick up some potions ingredients for Severus, who had gone back to brewing during the interim, sprucing up supplies for their next trip.

"Now, Haruun, stay close to me. Knockturn Alley is very dangerous," she told the boy, who pulled out his wand. It was a real wand attuned to him, purchased from Ollivander's. Ollivander's daughter ran it now. She was a pretty woman with strange, moon-colored eyes.

"I will cut them down if they try anything!" Haruun declared, swishing his wand around dangerously.

"Haruun, stop doing that!" Hermione chided him. "You might accidentally hex someone! Put it away."

Haruun did, but he remained in battle mode. He hoped someone did try something. He was anxious to have a real duel. The professor had taught him some very nasty spells. He didn't tell Hermione about half of them, knowing she wouldn't approve. But Snape told Haruun he was a Snape, so he was expected to act like a Snape and Snapes cast very nasty spells on those who challenged them.

"Hermione? Is that you?" a voice said behind her.

Hermione turned to see Ron standing there. Susan was with him and they were holding hands.

"Hi, Ron," Hermione said with a smile as he looked her over.

"Hello, Hermione," Susan said, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Hi, Susan," Hermione said, giving the plump caterer a smile.

Susan looked up at Ron.

"Ron, I'm going to go ahead to the store and look for that new self-cleaning pan, all right? Come along when you're done. It was good seeing you, Hermione."

"Bye, Susan," Hermione replied as the witch walked past her.

Haruun was sizing Ron up. He had red hair, freckles and very blue eyes. The boy felt him to be very strange looking. He should have seen the rest of the Weasleys.

"Wow, you're dark, Hermione," Ron commented, taking in her tan.

"The Egyptian sun," she replied. "I was out in it a lot."

"So, how was it?" he asked her a bit awkwardly.

"Exciting. Dangerous. Sobering," she replied.

Ron's eyes shifted to Haruun, who was looking back at him. For some reason, the boy didn't like Ron. There was something too familiar in the way he addressed Hermione, and Hermione was his father's woman. Plus, in Egypt, single men weren't supposed to address single women in such a way. It was fine for Snape and Hermione; they were already together, but this? Haruun stuck his chest out a bit.

"Who is this?" Ron asked her.

"I am Haruun Malik Snape," Haruun said proudly. "And who are you?"

"Haruun!" Hermione exclaimed at the challenge in the boy's voice.

Ron looked stunned. Snape? Did he say he was a Snape?

"Me? I'm Ron Weasley," he told the boy. "I'm an old friend of Hermione's."

Haruun cocked his head at him.

"How old?" he asked him, his dark eyes now drifting over Ron as if to judge if he were worthy to be Hermione's friend.

"We went to school together," Ron replied.

"I see. All right. You may continue to talk to her," Haruun said as Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "I will look at the owls."

And with that, Haruun walked over to the Owl Emporium and started looking at the beautiful caged birds.

Ron looked at Hermione incredulously.

"Snape? Snape has a son?" he asked Hermione.

"It's a long story, but yes, he adopted him. He'll be attending Hogwarts in the fall," she replied.

Ron shook his head.

"Snape as a dad? He's going to be one screwed up little bloke," he said in a low voice.

Hermione scowled.

"He'll be fine. Severus has been around children all his life. None of them came out any worse for wear. He's just strict," she said in his defense.

"Severus?"

Hermione blushed slightly and suddenly, Ron knew everything. He felt a little pulse of something, but he couldn't identify what it was. Maybe disgust. Whatever. He had Susan and was very happy with her. If Hermione had gone blind and fallen under Snape's dark spell, that was her choice.

"So, how long are you going to be in England?" Ron asked her.

"Until Haruun is settled in Hogwarts. Then we're off again."

"Where are you going this time?"

"The Himalayas. There is supposed to be a sacred tribe of Yeti hidden in the mountains, protected by the monks. We're going to try and find out where they are located and if they have a potion that stops time. It's believed they do, the way they can appear and disappear so quickly."

Ron shook his head.

"The Himalayas. Pretty cold area," he said shortly.

"After Egypt, I look forward to a bit of cold weather. You can wrap yourself up against the cold. There's little you can do against the heat except cast temporary cooling spells."

An awkward and uncomfortable silence fell between them. Then Ron addressed the elephant standing on the sidewalk with them.

"Ah, I'm with Susan now. She's a caterer. A really nice witch," he said to Hermione. "And she loves the Chudley Canons."

Hermione gave him a smile then, and he smiled back at her.

"It sounds like a really good match, Ron. Food and Quidditch? She sounds perfect."

Ron nodded.

"She is, Hermione," he told her softly. "I guess everyone isn't destined to be together, even if they think they should be."

"No, Ron, they're not," she agreed. "But the good thing is friends can always stay friends—"

Ron blinked.

"Yeah," he said.

Hermione looked up at him warmly, then walked into him, giving him a hug.

Ron was surprised, but then he smiled, patting Hermione's back. The hug felt comfortable. Right. Almost the way hugs used to feel when they were friends in school. Of course, there was a little residual protectiveness, but that was to be expected. Ron still cared for her after all, and Hermione cared for him. She always would.

They separated.

"Hey, maybe you can come to the Three Broomsticks this weekend. Harry and Ginny will be there. You can even bring Snape—if you absolutely have to," Ron quipped, grinning. "But tell him to leave that black cloud that follows him everywhere at the door."

Hermione scowled at the redhead.

"Ronald Weasley, you haven't changed at all. Professor Snape is a fine wizard," she started in, Ron grinning at her until she stopped and shook her head.

"I guess some things don't change, do they?" she asked him softly

"No, but some things do, and for the better," Ron replied, looking toward the shop Susan was in. "And I have to go. I want to make sure Susan buys a pot large enough to make decent portions."

Same old Ron.

"All right. It was good seeing you, Ron," she said to the wizard.

"You, too, Hermione. Don't forget about the Three Broomsticks," he said walking away, waving.

"I won't," she said, waving after him.

She watched as he turned into the shop, then let out a sigh. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. That final bit of guilt she felt at leaving Ron. But he had bounced back and found someone else, someone more in line with what he wanted. Hermione hoped he'd be very happy with Susan.

"You embraced him. The professor wouldn't like that," Haruun suddenly piped up. His arms were tightly folded in the same manner his father folded his when displeased.

Hermione gave him a smile.

"Haruun, in the Western world, it is all right for men and women to embrace. I'm not breaking any laws," she told him as they started walking.

"Well, you should be," the boy said jealously.

Hermione ruffled Haruun's hair as she turned into Knockturn Alley, at last feeling that everything, absolutely everything was right in her world—and her life was finally what it should be.

THE END

* * *

A/N: And thank you for reading Yuleride! ***


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